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alexkaneinq · 6 months ago

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Cultist's Gamble Round 10

They wait until the day before the full moon, when Pew should be feverish, exhausted, and shaky. Eric takes the night off, but Kasper wasn't scheduled to work tonight anyway which makes the situation more ideal. And just in case Ristol is still following either of them around, they meet up at the Lich & Hound instead of going straight to his apartment. They don't want anyone to know what they're doing and it will seem less suspicious if they go out for a night drinking and decide to retire to one of their homes to tie one on. As far as the rest of the world knows, they have become friends over the past few weeks. Kasper doesn't even think that he would be lying if he were asked to clarify that relationship. Eric is the closest thing he's had to a friend in a... long time. His order is very distant and secretive, focusing on corresponding through their letters and rituals, but never meeting each other in person or showing their faces. The more any of them know about one another, the more danger there is of everything they've worked for falling apart because the wrong person discovered them. His semi-nomadic lifestyle as he's gathered information all across the country, has only further solidified his isolation.

They don't drink heavily at the pub, not wanting to actually impair themselves before they go back to the apartment and when they arrive, he's happy to see that his landlady is leaving as well. He doesn't know about the other tenant, but just having one less person around will help. And... he's willing to take a risk tonight. When he unlocks the door to his apartment, he goes inside and straight over to his desk. Eric lingers by the doorway, looking at the much smaller apartment. Kasper keeps his belongings all fastidiously tidy in case he needs to leave the city abruptly, but he can't help but wonder what the other man might gauge from that. Not as much as he will when those sharp eyes snap to him as he unholsters his dagger and drags it across his middle and forefinger on his dominant hand.

"I don't--"

"Not for you," He tells the other, taking his fingers and dragging them over a clean sheet of parchment. He writes the same rune that was etched into their table at the Lich & Hound on the first sheet and then copies it to a second paper as well before he reaches for the bandages that he left on the table in anticipation of his spell casting tonight. It's the first time he's allowed himself to cast in front of anyone else, but if Eric turns on him, then he will ensure that the vampire doesn't see another moonrise either. He straightens up and offers Eric one of the papers. "Go put this on the stairwell door." The other creature takes it and moves swiftly, returning in just longer than the span between blinks. "That should keep anyone downstairs from being able to hear what's going on from the hall."

"And the second?"

"If someone opens that door the charm will break, this is for our wolf's door so we'll have a second layer of security if we need it."

"Well then, I suppose we're ready to give your neighbor a visit then?"

"As we'll ever be." They move across the hall, though Kasper also swipes a bottle of iron shavings and salt. Just in case. He would rather be safe than sorry and he does not appreciate that Ristol could still be watching his home.

Eric is the one who knocks on the door, his voice ringing out clearly and warmly now that he doesn't have to worry about calling attention to themselves that they might not want. "Mr. Pew? It's Dr. Fernward, I happened to be in the neighborhood and I thought that I would come check and see how you're doing? May I come in?"

There's no answer from the other side of the door and Kasper really hopes that the other man didn't disobey the doctor's warning that he would need plenty of rest after being released from the lab and that he stumbled out into the night when he's about to turn. But before he can panic, Eric is tilting his head slightly, listening with his far, far keener ears.

"He's inside. I hear the rattling of metal and his labored breathing, but he hasn't moved to open the door. "

"I don't suppose you know how to pick a lock?" That's not a skill he has without using his magic and he does not want to do so directly on the building because that will leave a very strong trace that the right kind of investigator will be able to use to pin the act on him.

"I have a way of doing so, yes." Eric sounds a little amused as he reaches for the handle. Kasper doesn't know if he should have expected him to just turn it so smoothly and snap the internal mechanism of the lock without seeming to expend any effort at all, but that is exactly what he does before the vampire grins at him as he pushes the door open.

"Ha, ha." He grumbles, making sure that he has his dagger in his uninjured hand so he can cast with his dominant one if he needs to, the wound still bleeding sluggishly, he's sure.

"Mr. Pew?" Eric calls again as they push the door open and step into the apartment. It's the same little shoebox of a place as his own and they find the source of the jangling metal easily enough. The wolf has broken through some of the plaster in the wall and hooked a thick chain around the pipes that run through it, shackles in place around his wrists to try and force him to stay put as he sits slumped against the floor. His skin is washed out and sallow, sweat lending it a feverish shine and giving the air a sour perfume. He bares his teeth at them as they come into the room, pushing himself up against the wall more tightly, but they're blocking the only exit unless he thinks he can jump out of the window without the vampire catching him as he runs past. "Ah, well, I suppose it's good that you took some precautions yourself, but we're here to help, Mr. Pew."

Kasper shuts the door behind them and smacks the seal onto the wood to block their voices before he starts to pour out the iron and salt along the edge of the threshold. The curtains are drawn on the window, the bleached fabric definitely having hung here since the last tenant moved out. He doesn't touch those as he spreads the fae repellant there as well.

"Get away from me, monster." Pew's voice is thin and strained as the doctor moves to kneel beside him.

"Now that's not very nice. The only reason you can even say that," Eric says in that falsely cheerful voice that he always uses and that always makes it feel as though any kind of kindness he offers is some kind of ruse, "is because you can hear how silent my chest is." Kasper turns back around to find the doctor has taken his stethoscope from his kit and is listening to the wolf's labored breathing even as he tries to shift away from him with what little strength is left in his body. Eric is the one who wants to offer him help, who wants to try and save this man instead of just tying up a loose end, so he can be the one who figures out how they need to proceed from this point. "And a normal human wouldn't be able to do that from this distance, now would they?"

"You should've killed me." It's a weak snarl, but it could get worse as the moon gets higher.

"Now why would I do that? You were a patient of mine and I am a doctor, my goal is always to heal, never to kill."

"You're a bloodsucker."

"And I've never once left a corpse behind in the wake of my meals." Eric tells him patiently. "Not every non-mortal creature is the monster that stories paint them as. Some of us just want to exist. I can do that by giving back to this world more than I ever take and choose to take in ways that hurt no one. I didn't choose to become this, it was forced on me, much like it was forced on you. But in time, if you choose to focus and hone your instincts, then you can exist without being destroyed by them. You will be able to live a life that is not all that different from the one that you had before this."

Pew scoffs, trying to sit up a little more so he can bat the other's hands away from him which Eric allows.

"When I turned, I was alone and confused." Eric reaches for the chains, testing their strength and clearly not liking what he finds if the small frown twisting his features tells him anything. "You know what you are becoming, clearly. You are not alone. We can keep you in this room for the first transformation and ensure that you hurt no one. And the next, we can see how you have adjusted and then help you find another place to stretch your legs. With enough time and attention, you will be able to live a normal life, Mr. Pew. A fresh start, that is what you said you were looking for when you left your previous job, wasn't it? You are a new man now, there can't be a fresher start than that."

Kasper doesn't buy into the flowery way that Eric talks about becoming new by becoming something like them. A creature or caster who is outlawed by this entire country and that will see them exterminated for the crime of existing. This is a new life, but it is a half life while those in power now can force them to live in the shadows. Just a few months. Just a few months until the ritual and that world will become something new. He'll write misfortune so deeply into the earth of this country that when it shatters apart, people will falsely blame the gods of luck for a bout of cruelty. Enough discourse across the country and he will finally be free. He won't have to hide in the place he was born anymore. He won't have to always worry about fleeing to some other place just to ensure that he doesn't end up hunted down and executed.

He isn't sold on Eric's words, but his apathy can be a background presence. Eric is checking over Pew, making certain that his temperature is where it should be, focusing on talking to him about how he's heard the change will come on and from what he's studied as a doctor. Kasper is mostly just keeping and eye and hoping that the chains are enough to keep him secure, otherwise he'll have to use more of his magic to bind him--

Eric's hands are in his kit for about five seconds before Pew twists, slamming his forehead into the vampire's nose and breaking it with a loud crunch, the sound half lost because in the same movement, with more strength and speed than the turning wolf should be able to manage, he is pushing himself up from the floor. And Kasper abruptly gets the answer about if the chains are strong enough as Pew yanks on them with all his strength and tears the pipe from the wall, sending freezing water spraying them all before the wolf comes straight at him. He can't lift his hand faster than Pew can get into his space, wrapping the thick chain around his neck and holding it tight, the pressure pinching his skin and choking his breath in his lungs.

"Kasper! Let go of him!" Eric snarls, his glamour dropping completely and showing the long sharp ears, glowing red eyes, and his big, bright fangs, lips coated in the blood that is gushing from his nose.

"Not a chance, fang." Pew growls. His body is a feverish heat against his spine, but Kasper can feel a tremble going through him, can hear it shaking through the chains because this is all the strength his body has left in it.

Result: Critical Success!

Bad End Counter: -9

Eric's Heart Counter: 4 to 5

Vellum's Heart Counter: -1 to 0

Kasper doesn't bother trying to lift his hand, instead he reaches back, fingers curling over the other man's hip, and he pulses a curse, a bit of the decay scraped from the grave of a god, into his body and the strength that was in the other man immediately falters. His muscles go weak and he staggers backward , letting him slip the chain and move away from him. Eric rushes forward instead, his fangs bared, and pins the wolf to the wall, his nails sharpened to talons and clearly ready to tear out the other man's throat.

"You could have started over--"

"Leave him be." Kasper says, his voice a little rough from the pain in his throat. He moves towards the pipe and tries to shove the metal back into place so they don't entirely flood the apartment and wash away the salt and iron by the door.

"What?" Eric sounds properly scandalized. "You were all gung-ho to kill him for days, but now that he's tried to kill you he suddenly deserves to live?"

"Well, for the past few days I thought he would be a loose cannon who wouldn't have the sense to survive as a freshly turned creature." He says easily. "But it's clear now that he has very strong self-preservation instincts. Hopefully he's also smart enough to realize that a freshly turned Were is not strong enough to take on you or me now. Especially not when one of us is a valued member of this community while he's already been subject to such scrutiny that people would have been throwing silver on his sheets in the hospital if you hadn't given him a chance." Pew looks like he's about to drop dead from the fever and sickness that Kasper keeps moving through his body and making his muscles weak. "He's not going to cause us any trouble because if he does," He makes the sickness stronger, opening ulcers in his gut and spiking his nausea. Eric hears him start to wretch and drops him so he can collapse to the floor and vomit out a stream of bile and blood. "Then he won't get a chance to run. If I don't turn his insides to sludge, then a mob will be hot on his heels with silver-tipped crossbow bolts." Kasper kneels down in front of him and smiles, "And you want to live, very, very badly, don't you, puppy?"

Vellum's eyes are filled with something. Loathing, maybe. Helplessness, definitely. But something else too. A thin trace of something that Kasper will be having more of in the future if he can get it. Respect. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Good dog," he pats his head, his wet hair sticking to his skin. "If you need any assistance, feel free to knock, neighbor. Come on, let's go. I don't want to be here when he tears his skin off."

"But--"

"He's not going anywhere." Kasper says, pushing up from the floor. "By the time he changes, he's not going to have energy to do anything other than lick his wounds." He'll guarantee it. He can feel the wolf's body trying to heal the sickness he's putting into it, and he opens a few more wounds internally so that the transformation will sap the last of his strength. Kasper doubts he'll even be able to stay awake when he's a dog. "One other word of advice: Keep salt and iron on hand. There's a nosy fae in this city and I doubt you want him catching wind of any of your secrets."

Eric still looks a little incensed, but when Kasper takes his sigil from the door and pulls it open, the doctor does step into the hall with him. He waits to speak again until they're both safely back in his apartment, putting the seal there instead. "I'll get some towels. How's your nose?"

"Healing, I'll be fine in a minute," Eric moves into his space, his claws retracting into his well-manicured nails again as he gently touches his throat. The skin there aches, and he hopes that it isn't already forming a bruise that he will have a hard time explaining to anyone if they ask. "Are you certain that's wise?"

"You wanted to give him a chance."

"I wanted to give him a chance before he proved to be so violent and dangerous. He could have killed you."

"That's very sweet, but no he couldn't have." Not when his hand was already cut and his magic was so close to the surface. "I have him on a leash now, if we need him out of the picture, I can make him drop dead and I have a pretty good feeling that the doctor that will be in charge of the autopsy will determine that it was of natural causes."

Eric still seems hesitant, but after a second he huffs softly and reaches up to check the set of his nose. It's definitely crooked, but he snaps the bone again and holds it in place so that his rapid healing can take care of it, his eyes watering from the pain. "What type of caster are you exactly?" He asks instead of pressing on the issue of the wolf anymore.

"If I didn't keep you guessing, you wouldn't still be interested, now would you?" He moves past him towards the bathroom and the pile of towels he knows are folded neatly under the sink.

"I don't think that you could stop being interesting if you told me everything about your life from your birth right up to this very moment." The vampire tells him dryly.

"Flatterer." He teases, giving him a dark washcloth to take the blood from his face. All of his towels are dark, and Eric doesn't look surprised over that in the slightest. He thinks he's made it pretty obvious that he is accustomed to cleaning up blood by now.

Start Here | First Round | Previous Round | Next Round | Last Round

#cultist's gamble playthrough #solo rpg #writing game #monster romance

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muse-in-a-box · 1 year ago

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- Nightmare Meme -

It’s a pleasant afternoon. Brother and sister are seated together at an outdoor cafe, enjoying lunch, talking about anything and everything.

At one point, Prism looks down to show Pietro something on her phone, and:

“Why weren’t you there for me?” Pietro asks, gently.

When she looks back up, she’ll see how he looked before the hospital: an imaginary recreation that is scarily accurate to how he’d truly been, that night.

Goggles broken. Bloodshot, teary eyes. Cuts across his skin. Torn suit.

His left leg so badly mangled nothing can save it. Twisted, crushed, bone through skin -

“Of course you weren’t there. You’re not a mutant.” He grins; there’s blood smeared in his teeth. “You were sitting at home, weren’t you? Watching on the news as Genosha fell. While I fought for our people, you stayed on the outside looking in. Safe. Secure.”

Pietro leans forward. “You’re my sister by blood. But you aren’t family. Never forget that, Prism, okay? Never forget how you enjoy all the comforts of your heritage with none of the detriments. Never forget what your kind allowed to happen to mine.”

Prism jolted awake, biting back a scream. A dream- hug mom- can't get shield up will burn mom-

She reached for her phone, checking the time. May has to do work stuff today don't wake her- Melody has to supervise a playdate for her twins not her-

Prism made a slightly pained noise, her brain firing off hundreds of thousands of scenarios at once. Talk to Guy- They're busy- Gal- Gal doesn't get it- Can't leave Reflet by herself to go see them anyways-

Her brain circled back to the dream, and began going back and forth. Call Pietro- Don't call Pietro- Call big brother- Don't call big brother-

Her brain snapped to a time when she was in college, she had stared at her phone because she wanted to talk to Guy but couldn't bring herself to make the call and Guy ended up calling her. Wait for Pietro to call.

This all happened in the span of a few seconds.

@onlyheartaches

#prism tag #ask tag #cw: gore #<-(is there just in case)

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witch-hazels-musings · 4 years ago

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scaramouche, diluc, and childe with a [gn] reader whos terrified of needles?

Needle Fear

Warning -> General, sfw (mention of needles, getting a shot, cussing (S), sudden kiss (Ch))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Scaramouche

Childe

Not only has Childe seen many sicknesses and many healers, but he’s also had to help his siblings through any and all visits they had to take - so it wasn’t unusual for him when you nearly begged him to visit the healers with you

There was something adorable about the way you tightly gripped onto his hand, the way you hid behind him just enough when you walked down the hall to the examination room, the way you glanced at him or turned to him every time you heard a person walk past the door. How could he not think you were adorable?

“Childe, it’s gonna hurt.” Your fingers curled around his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. His comforting scent and tall frame were like a barrier between you and the door you didn’t want to see.

“It’ll be okay, I have to do this all the time.”

“Really?” He nodded his head and lifted your chin. The smile on his face was reassuring and, for a moment, as his fingers rested against you, you forgot where you even were. That was until you heard the click of the door and the sound of footsteps.

“Hey there, are we ready?” They entered the room and set their items on the small table next to you but all you could respond with was shifting closer into the shield you’d made out of Childe.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Wanna know why?” He leaned down, his arms spanning either side of you while his palms pressed into the mattress you sat on. The soft cool of his eyes brought you a reprieve, a distraction from the current environment and as you looked at him, you shook your head signaling him to continue. “I’ll be here the whole time, right here, that’s why it’ll be okay.”

After a moment, you gave in - how could you not when he was so comforting to you. “O-okay, I’m ready.” Your hands moved to grab onto his wrists and as you heard the healer begin to prepare their items, you continued to stare at Childe. “Don’t move.”

“I won't.” You nodded again, your eyes drifting to the healer, and when they ran a cool, cleansing cloth over your arm you tensed. “Look at me, it’s okay.” Their hand wrapped around your arm to hold you steady and your head twisted in fear.

“Childe --- I can’t … hold o-” Your words were cut off by his lips, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he pulled you back to him. The suddenness of his kiss blocked out everything else, the heat of his lips, the fullness of his connection, it was all so distracting.

“All done.” You pulled away, your gaze dropping to the small bandage they placed onto your arm. When did they do that?

“See, I told you it would be simple.” Childe smiled at you and you hid your embarrassment in the palm of your hand.

Diluc

He couldn’t count the times he’s had to experience this type of care - from the constant exams done in the Knights of Favonious, to the aid he received during his three mysterious years - getting something like this was just common practice to him at this point - plus, it only took a few moments and then it was over, so it wasn’t that bad

Though, as he watched the way you fussed, worried, and nearly drew yourself to sickness at the idea, he recalled a memory of his childhood. If he could do it for you, he would, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and he was going to need to find some other way to keep you steady

Diluc stood next to you, his body angled in such a way that he could keep you in his line of sight while also observing the door. You didn’t dare turn around so instead, you looked out the window as you held onto your arms with a grip that hurt your fingers.

“I don’t like this.” You muttered, watching the workers meander through the vineyards. It would have been better if you could just be with them, hide in between the many dangling grapes, and as far away from this situation as you could get.

“I know, I��ve been assured this person is very experienced. You should have nothing to fear.”

“Save for the whole needle part, archons, why do we even need this.” You shook your head and moved closer to the window.

“It will only take a moment, I’ll be here the whole time.” Turning your attention away from the outside world, you gazed up at Diluc. His neutral expression surrounded by lively hair was somehow more comforting than anything you’d ever come upon in your whole lifetime. He was your rock, steadfast and sturdy, and as his fingers grazed your arm, ran over your ear, you knew his words held true.

“Oka--”

“Master Diluc, the healer.” You turned and saw one of the maids ushering in a young woman whose brightness lit up the room. You recognized her from the church and immediately you felt more at ease. Quickly, the instruments were prepared and as you settled onto the bed, your eyes found the one thing you were most anxious about.

“I know you’re scared,” She began, pulling a chair close to you while she explained the process. “I’ll clean your arm with this,” She pointed to the small tin before continuing, “then I’ll gently take your arm and give you the shot.”

“It’ll hurt, right.” You whispered, shifting uncomfortably to make more space.

“For a very brief second. Then it’ll be over.” Her smile was so warm and you knew she must have done this quite often.

“I’m sure it’s silly to see a grown adult so afraid of needles.”

“Not as silly as you would imagine, are you ready?” You looked at her and nodded your head slowly but when she began the process, you turned away and closed your eyes. That’s when you felt the bed dip and a warm heat spread across your body.

“I’m right here.” Diluc’s voice was soft, and sent a shiver down your spine - or was that the cleaning salv? It didn’t matter because as soon as your face found his chest, you disappeared into his warmth and security. All you felt was his hand over your ear, all you heard was the pounding of his heart; you weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, but by the time you looked up the healer was gone but Diluc had stayed.

Scaramouche

He didn’t understand your aversion to something so small. How could one little thing cause you to break down into a panic, it’s not like it could really hurt you - he’s felt much worse in his lifetime

So when you begged him to go with you, pleaded practically on your knees, he was stuck between his irritation of your complaints and how cute you were with those pouting lips and watering eyes (how adorable you look, he’ll never tell you though)

“It’s not that bad, just be quiet for one minute.” Scara pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed so loud you were sure people outside of the room could hear him. Of course, he’d be annoyed, you literally dragged him here to your check-up just so you could have someone with you when they … when they brought out the needle. Why did they need to do this to you anyway, weren’t there healers all around Teyvat that could cure you with a flick of their wrist. The fact that they also had instruments like these was confounding.

“I know, I’m sorry …” You bit your lip and turned away from him. Your eyes finding the sheets and fingers moving to poke at your gums, teeth clenching hard around your nails. This habit was one you developed a long time ago and while you managed to curb it during most activities but when you were stressed and uncomfortable it reared its head.

You heard the sound of Scara’s voice and turned to look at him but were interrupted by the healer entering the room. “Hello, are you ready?” As soon as they placed the items close to you, you went stiff. You wanted so badly to be calm but it was … impossible, look at that thing! Eyes darting to Scara you slipped into pleading but did your best to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Will it hurt?” Scara asked as he watched them prepare the needle and syringe.

“Only for a second, I promise you won’t even notice it.” They looked at you but all your eyes could see was the large pointy metal bit that was about to go right through your skin and as a child reaches for their parent in the darkness, you grabbed onto Scara’s clothes.

“Fine, give me one. I’ll show you there isn’t anything to be scared about.” Quickly, he rolled up his sleeves and after the healer prepared a second needled, they held his arm while he looked in your direction.

“Ready?”

“Get it over with.” You watched as the needle moved to his arm, your head shaking but he seemed so calm. “See there is nothing to -- FUCK WHAT THE .. SHIT!?” His sudden outburst startled both you and the healer, but their professionalism powered through until it was all done.

“Wasn’t that bad … huh?” You laughed, your hand covering your mouth as you watched him stare daggers into the person at his side.

“Shut up, I’m leaving.”

“Wait! I still haven’t gotten mine!!”

“Too bad, you’re on your own.”

“Scara!” He pushed his way through the door and you heard him shouting indiscernibly down the hall.

“Are you ready?” The healer asked, and you began to bite your nails.

tag list:

@sufzku @plenilunegazes @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @aoirohi @anatthesavage @actstfbla @shy-specter @fvushiguros @kaidou-pie @cyphermagic @linarizaki

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #needles

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skellebonez · 4 years ago

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The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #cursed au #dad macaque #i couldn't help adding in a little idea i had with him and wukong at the end #since this is pretty much non-canon to the au anyway

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pa-stella · 3 years ago

Note

23 with your fave hitoya ship? o3o

Ohh, thank you for this request, anon! I hope you like it even if it's not really a ship oneshot. I might have indulged a bit in my headcanon of young Hitoya being a little childish/headstrong.

Title: Stubborn Fandom: Hypnosis Mic Pairing: Jakurai/Hitoya Prompt: Putting their chin on the other's shoulder

Stubborn

“Shit!”

The swear word echoed in the small basketball court as the teen fell on the concrete. Hitoya held his ankle and let out a pained groan.

“Amaguni! Are you okay?” The rest of the improvised team quickly surrounded him.

“I… I think I twisted my ankle…” He explained. He knew he hadn’t landed properly after shooting.

“Well, we’re done for today, I guess. ” Nao commented.

“What? No, I can still play!” Hitoya complained and tried to stand up, but a hand kept him down.

“No, you can’t,” Jakurai interjected his complaint with the usually calm tone. “You’d just risk making it worse.”

“But…” Another member of the group handed him an ice-cold can of soda from the nearby vending machine, interrupting the discussion. The cool metal against his burning ankle was truly a relief. “Fine.”

“Ohhh, he’s not being stubborn for once!” Nao exclaimed and took out his phone. “If you want, I can ask my mum to bring you home.”

“Ah, no, no! Don’t worry!” He moved his free hand frantically. “My house is not that far! I’ll walk…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure it won’t be that bad!”

Truth was that it turned out to be even worse. Once everyone had left the basketball court at the park, Hitoya slowly made his way too but he had to stop at least every few steps. He somehow reached a bench right at the entrance of the park when his ankle protested one last time and he collapsed on the metal seat.

“Does it hurt that much?” The simple question made him sigh. Of course, he would wait for him.

“Observant as usual, Jakurai.”

His friend showed him a small smile. “Nao’s right. You’re so stubborn.” He crouched down in front of the bench. “Let’s go.”

“Uh, what?”

“I’ll carry you,” Jakurai explained.

Not only Hitoya had to be one who got injured and ruined the game for everyone, but now he also had to endure the embarrassment of being carried home by a friend? No, absolutely not.

“C’mon, I just need more time to rest and…” Jakurai didn’t move away and Hitoya panicked a little. “I’m covered in sweat, Jakurai. It’s disgusting.”

His friend looked at him from over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, so I am.”

“That’s… not true.” They played for three hours straight and Jakurai looked like he had just come back from a quiet stroll around the neighborhood. Damn him.

“Hitoya…”

“Ok, ok! You win!”

He moved to the edge of the bench and secured his arms around Jakurai’s neck while the other grabbed the back of his thighs. “Are you sure you’ll be able to carry me?”

“You’re not heavy in the first place.” Jakurai chuckled and stood up slowly. He waited a few seconds to find his balance again. “Ok, maybe you’re a little heavy.”

“What!”

He just laughed again. “Hold steady.” He warned before starting to move.

Hitoya tightened the grip of his legs around his waist, but he knew the other teen wouldn’t let him fall anyway. In the short span of a few years, Jakurai had grown up by several inches, becoming the tallest guy in their classroom. Plus, he still was unbeatable in any sport or physical activity. He might have appeared a little too lean, but he was strong. Strong enough to carry him around with no problem, at least. He wondered what it felt like being so… perfect.

“Hitoya, are you okay? You’re oddly silent.”

“It’s impossible to talk with your long hair in my face!” Hitoya laughed and pressed his chest against the other’s back so he could rest his chin on his shoulder. “Now it’s better.”

After that simple movement, Jakurai stopped for a few seconds. Hitoya could see there was a faint blush on his face.

“Uh? Are you already tired, Jakurai?” Hitoya let out a surprised sound.

Jakurai’s reply came when he started to walk again. “Maybe I am.” He shook his head as if trying to forget about something. “How’s your ankle doing?”

“It pulses. I think it’s fine.”

“If it pulses, it is not fine.”

“Trust me! Tomorrow I’ll be running again!”

“You better go and see a doctor tomorrow.”

“There’s no need for that!”

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

#writing? in this economy?#hitojaku #if you squint #hypmic #hypnosis mic #hitoya amaguni #jakurai jinguji

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years ago

Note

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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lostmyshadesanon · 4 years ago

Text

@teyvat-writer

Part 2 this time with p*rn! Maybe...

We're back again. It's the not so anonymous 🦊 Anon.

My headspace for writing p*rn still isn't quite there so we're hoping starting writing it will get us there....

We hope...

Anyway!

Time for:

Hydro!Archon!Male!Reader (Power bottoming) x (kinda sub) Childe (Huzzah🎊)

Obviously not safe for work! NSFW

The clack of Childe's chair hitting the floor barely rang through the room before you were on top of him forcefully driving him backwards and crashing into the floor.

You had been able to ignore the signs of arousal the man inspired in you throughout your meeting. It was expected of you to be a calm and fair ruler, and for the most part you upheld that image, but when someone offered themselves so willing~.

Especially one with such beauty as your favored...

How could you wait?

Childe laugh breathlessly, your tackle forcing the air from his lungs, and causing his erection to throb. Oh he had hoped you weren't as prim and proper as you appeared, but this exceeded his expectations! He tried to move his hands up to grasp at your hips only to get them swatted away by your quick fingers.

A taunting smirk pulling at your features as you softly waved your fingers in front of his nose like he's a naughty child. "Now! Now. No touching until I say...after all you said a show of YOUR willing submission, and that means I get to take as much as I want until I'm satisfied."

Childe couldn't help the thrust of his hips to ground his pulsing erection into your ass as it was pressed so snugly against him, or the laughter that continued to spill from his lips. Keeping his wrists pressed to the floor near his head his smiled widened, blue eyes deepening in color, a hint of his fangs flashing he replied, "Then take it! If you can?", Challenge heavy in his voice.

Grinding heavily down on the impressive bulge you could feel you replied, "On my honor as an Archon," You leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I will."

You knew he was probably uncomfortable sprawled out in the over turned chair but in the moment you didn't much care. You only cared that the seat forced his legs wide around it and gave you a delightful backrest while also robbing him the ability to get a good angle to thrust up into you.

A low thrum hit your ears making a devious smirk split yours lips, and dim Childe's to a slightly wary tilt. Your favored's hydro vision was starting resonate so sweetly with you calling out to it's progenitor.

Delighted you pulsed your power through the body below you, and Childe jerked with a shout. Spine snapping into a lovely arch and chin pointed towards the ceiling allowing him to howl without restraint.

You felt the already impressive bulge grow and start to drip with want. You would be concerned about taking something of this size, but the utter pleasure you could feel sparking through Childe's veins was making your hole clench and relax spastically. Childe's thighs clenching and bulging under the strain.

You had heard the rumors of the type of warrior you had pinned below you so you knew he was greatly endowed with stamina. Though maybe not as greatly as what you could feel throbbing below you, but you couldn't chance it you HAD to have him inside you as soon as possible so his warm cum could fill your insides.

Desperately you tore at his cloths, snarling at him when he lifted his wrists from where they lay near his head, you didn't care if his intent was to assist or not, summoning tendrils of water to curl around them and slam them back to their prior position. Finally the harbinger was clothed in nothing but rags and you were presenting with his awe inspiring cock as it pulsed in your hands.

Though in would be a strong word. It was to large to the point you couldn't encircle it with both your hands. Easily bigger than your hand span it was flushed a deep red as it drooled continuously the tip starting to turn an angry purple. The pinky sized veins twitching violently under your resonance as you ground desperately against one of Childe's thighs.

You couldn't tear your eyes away for a second until you felt your own drool drip from your mouth but instead of hearing it splash into the floor you heard it hit skin drawing your gaze. Orange size balls greeted you and you almost chocked on your own spit your eyes widening before a warbled chuckle dragged your gaze back to Childe's face.

"I thought you were going to take it?!?" He was smirking at you. You increased the resonance to watch him twitch and spasm feel a fat splurge of pre surge out onto your hands, and he only laughed. "Seems like it's to much for you?"

Outraged you lifted up your under garments only moving enough to have access to your hole. Calling on your own powers to leave yourself loose and wet before sinking down onto one of the biggest cocks you've ever had the pleasure of encountering.

Though you didn't get very far.

He was so thick! You couldn't! You whined as you restlessly twisted your hips trying to force yourself lower.

Why couldn't you???

His laughter grated on your ears as you glared down balefully at him. A rogueish grin pulling at his lips. "Are you having a 'hard' time my darling patron?"

You knew the taught for what it was but you could barely think as you slowly forced yourself lower. Finally you were able to force the head in with a wet pop! You were the one throwing your back into an arch now as you took ragged gasps, drool spilling from your mouth continuously, as your head emptied in a quick rush.

That was your second mistake.

Without knowing you broke your connecting to Childe's vision, disconnecting the resonance, and ceasing your overstimulation to his nerves. Your hydro tendrils lost form as they splashed uselessly to the grown as you forced yourself down another inch, and Childe was never one to not seize an advantage.

Hands surging forward grasping your hips he propped himself up with a feral grin. "I think that's enough submission to clear our debts don't you think, my beloved patron?" Before gripping tight enough to bruise while snapping his hips up and dragging you down roughly so that your pelvises greeted each other with a loud click.

You screamed as you came squirting around the massive cock inside you. Mind filling with static unable to comprehend anything but incredible fullness and pleasure.

You could feel Childe shifting as he stood up, you could only whine as you were forced to stay securely on his cock as he walked back towards the conference table. "I spent some time in Liyue before coming here and they taught me the importance of a 'fair' contract. So considering you violated your honor as an 'Archon' since you weren't able to keep your word at taking my cock, and I had to assist you." He trailed off waiting for a reply.

You could barely see his dark blue eyes staring into your soul through your tears. He smiled fangs lengthening smile twisting into a sneer, "I'll just have to take my dues, with interest of course. I am in charge of a bank after all."

****

Okay I think I hit stride somewhere in the middle of that.

Part 2 done of the 4 part series for @teyvat-writer 's birthday. Happy Birthday 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Next up dom! Childe. Though I might have cheated on that a bit with this chapter.

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indulge-that-sin · 4 years ago

Text

A Social Experience

Characters: GN!MC, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon

Wordcount: 1700

Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Bonding Activities, Humor

(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)

***

"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.

Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.

You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.

You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.

Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!"

"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"

"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.

"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.

Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.

"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."

Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.

"Give what an hour?"

"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.

Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.

You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.

Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door. Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.

"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?

"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.

Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume.

"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.

He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.

"What do you want?" Levi grit out.

"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"

"He's bored," you translated.

"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"

"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested.

"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.

Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules.

Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.

"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.

"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression. Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.

A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.

Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.

The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.

"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player.

"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.

"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.

Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.

"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.

Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.

"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you.

He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.

"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.

Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"

"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."

"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.

"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"

"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.

"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.

"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one."

"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"

"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.

"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."

"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"

Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.

"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"

"I do too play games," Asmo protested.

"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."

You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles.

"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."

"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"

"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."

The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.

"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"

You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.

"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."

But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.

#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon

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martianbugsbunny · 3 years ago

Text

OUAT Thoughts Pt.73--Episodes 17-18

I have watched through S7E18; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Maybe doing shots while trying to protect yourself against a killer isn’t the best idea. *raises eyebrow at Zelena*

—How can she even consider marrying Chad? I realize he knows now that she has a gnarly past, but he doesn’t have a clue about the fairytale stuff, and the odds of her being able to either live with that detail omitted or actually convince Chad to believe it are pretty slim.

—The idea of fairytale characters leaving their communities to be regular people in the regular world is awful. It’s an unfortunate case of the magic being sucked out of life. It’s fine when it’s one of Storybrooke curses and it’s going to be fixed, and everyone stays together, but when it’s a different curse and I don’t know how it’s going to end and people are actually leaving it just loses a little bit of the sparkle.

—That made no sense, but if you understand the feeling I was trying to convey, here is a gold star 🫴🌟 You deserve it.

—So Zelena burning Hansel’s arms was a greater offense to him than Drizella and Gothel being responsible for Gretel’s death. Alright.

—You know, I don’t like Hansel, but when he snarked on Henry’s lack of belief, considering his Truest Believer status, I couldn’t help agreeing. It’s about time somebody said it.

—Ngl, episode 18 was kind of immensely upsetting. I feel like I’m Alice or Rumple, but I haven’t found my Robin or Belle. Like Alice, I have good days and I have pretty crappy days, but I don’t have a person in my life I know is going to see the best in me and love me on the bad days. A big part of it is that Alice is not too good at what I think is considered normal communication/conversation with other people, and in real life I stumble over words a lot more than I do on here, and I’m not good at figuring out what to say to begin with, and I’m still waiting to find somebody who thinks I’m worth it anyway.

—Now that I’ve been a big Debbie Downer, on to the other stuff!

—Seeing Rumple in full Dark One mode, very clearly a broken man, is one of the saddest moments in the entire show. He’s historically been one of the most confident, secure, bright people in the show, and now all he’s got is the madness.

—Also, him choosing to continue his weary existence so Alice and Robin could be happy together? That made me cry too. Bless him.

—Robin being the messenger between Alice and Hook is one of the sweetest things I can think of. Very good girlfriend.

—Hook accepting that Rumple had changed also made me cry. Man, these two episodes were killer. But he didn’t see the entire span of Rumple’s life, like original Hook did. All he had was the word of other people, which he didn’t trust, and a singe noble act for his daughter, and honestly that being the thing to convince Hook that Rumple was alright is amazing.

—I’m gonna need him to wake up, though, because A) I miss him, and 2) he needs to be reunited with Alice fr.

—The friendship bracelet thing is awesome. Alice and Robin are the best.

—Alice taking care of Rumple in the New Enchanted Forest, and them being friends in Hyperion Heights, is now a sucker punch to the feels. Sure, she’s the Guardian, so she’s compelled to guard him as the Dark One, but there’s a more personal dimension to their relationship that I love. They were friends before, and then he sacrificed his happy ending to make sure she got hers, and it’s absolutely lovely.

—Rumple’s happy ending being death is terribly sad. Everybody else has happy endings that seem a bit implausible or unattainable at times, but they always involve living to love someone.

—It’s totally unnecessary, but I love that Alice corrected Robin from ‘mom and pop bookstore’ to ‘pop and pop bookstore.’ Did they have to put that line in there? No. Does it really mean anything? Again, no, but its casualness and the fact that it isn’t made out to mean anything big or grand is v swaggy to me. This season kinda makes me wish the first seasons had been a little bit queerer.

—It’s fun how Hyperion Heights reversed Alice and Robin’s roles in regards to how widely-traveled they are. It’s fun to watch that knowing more than the characters do.

—I’m a little bit mad at Rumple for taking the magic, because I don’t want Henry to die, but if Regina makes me choose between her and Rumple I’m gonna back Rumple. If he’s got one ride-or-die, I’m it; if he’s got none, I’m dead.

—Kinda wish we had gotten Facilier a little bit earlier, not in the show, because I think he works well with the other characters on the board right now, but in the season, because he’s shaping up to be a pretty intimidating guy, and I’m not sure I think his full potential will be explored.

—Not backing him, though, because he’s in direct opposition to Rumple, and as stated above there is nobody I will choose over him.

—I disagree with some of the personality choices they’ve made for Henry in this season (although I think I understand the narrative reasons) but I think they did an excellent job casting Henry. On a scale of “did they time travel to get the original actor at the right age” to “what the hell were they thinking,” this guy lands right on “I would believe these actors were brothers.” His expressions are spot-on.

—Seeing how much Rumple and Zelena and Hook want Alice and Robin to be happy together makes me happy.

—I’m starting to have the sads about being so close to the end of the show. I don’t adore this season the way I adore the other six, but the end of it is the end of the show that I love, and the end of the stories of the characters I love. Plus, I’m pretty sure Rumple is going to die at the end, and I don’t think I’m emotionally buff enough to handle that.

—To cheer ourselves up, my mom and I are now listening to some of the songs from the musical episode, because that is our happy place. It’s actually low-key working, because how can I be sad with the gorgeous sound of Hook’s voice?

#once upon a time #ouat #zelena #Hansel #Henry mills #rumplestiltskin #Alice #Alice jones #Robin Hood #Alice x robin #Captain Hook #dr. Facilier #regina mills #martianbugsbunny reviews

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lightsovermonaco · 4 years ago

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 4

Masterlist

Thank you as always to my best friend and Beta reader @acollectionofficsandshit for putting up with me and my ramblings ♥

Word Count: 3.8k

Recommended song: "ily (I love you baby)" by Surf Mesa and Emilee

You'd never been more thankful that you kept a change of clothes in your car than you were after the race at Silverstone. You'd showered again, changing back into the sweaty tee and leggings. The clean emergency hoodie and jeans were a blessing, and casual enough for a night on the town.

Most of the crew had left, only a few poor souls pouring over race data or packing up essentials. James let you into the trailer yard this time without hesitation. "We really should just get you a key," He teases, "Sure would make my life easier."

Rolling your eyes, you give the tower of muscle a pitiful shove. He doesn't move an inch. "Thanks James. I'll ask Pierre to look into it."

A sudden wave of tiredness washes over you when you make it back to the trailer. You flip through the channels on the tiny television, settling on an analysis of the day’s race.

“And a brilliant drive from young Pierre Gasly, wasn’t it John?”

“I completely agree Martin. Gasly took advantage of every slip up by Mercedes and Red Bull and he has to be commended for that. Max made some rare mistakes and…”

You smile to yourself, their praise washing over you. Yawning, you curl up on Pierre's bed, the familiar smell of cedar lulling you into a light sleep in minutes.

**********

A gentle touch to your cheek wakes you some hours later. You crack your eyes open, greeted by a smile brighter than the stars in the night sky. You taste eternal sunshine on his lips when you kiss him, your soul sparking in response to his light.

"Good morning," He murmurs, thumb rubbing along your jaw. "Sleep well?"

You snuggle closer to him, eyes closing once more as you soak up the warmth. "Is it time to go out already?"

"It is. But we can stay here if you want to." He brushes a stray hair off your face. The gesture is so tender, if you didn’t know any better you’d never guess he could turn into the seasoned, take-no-shit racer you’d seen hours before.

You shake your head. You couldn't let him miss out on celebrating his victory with his closest friends. Besides, you hadn't seen any of them for a span of time longer than a few minutes in months, and truth be told, you missed them all.

Those boys had a knack for turning the simplest of outings into unforgettable adventures. You had been sworn to secrecy on numerous occasions after Pierre recounted drunken escapades that usually ended with Max sleeping somewhere preposterous, like a claw-footed bathtub in a fancy suite.

“Where are we going?” You ask sleepily. “Somewhere nearby?”

Pierre tugs you up until you’re sitting. He pulls you back against his chest, arms wrapping around you as he sets his chin on your shoulder. “Yeah. Maybe ten minutes away.”

You lean your full weight against him, admiring how perfectly your bodies slot together. “Can I leave my car here?”

“As long as you’re okay with it staying here until tomorrow, that’s fine.” He coaxes you to stand and presses a kiss to your temple as a reward. Your limbs are still heavy and uncooperative. Pierre winds an arm around your waist, supporting you and assuming the position of your rock as he always did.

"You don't sleep here," You state simply, looking at him for confirmation. He shakes his head.

"Wouldn't be enough room for two anyway." He gestures to the tiny twin sized bed and shrugs.

Your brow furrows. “Am I staying with you tonight?” You honestly had not considered it. The jet usually left early and you had assumed he would want to get as much rest as possible. But now that you had experienced waking up next to him, you realize how much you want his face to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes each morning.

“Of course you’re staying with me. I’m taking every second of your time that I can get.”

You bite your lip and lay your head on his shoulder. The idea of falling asleep in his arms was enough to shake any lingering sleepiness. “Okay.” Confident that you could hold yourself up, you step out of his grasp. “Ready.”

The few mechanics roaming about the grounds are enough to keep you cautious. You walk through the paddock a hair's breadth apart, although every nerve screams for you to touch him. Every time your arm grazes his, electricity ripples across your skin. All you want to do is hold his hand, but there’s enough prying eyes that you restrain the impulse.

You can tell he feels it too by the way his fingers curl and uncurl at his sides. And he's biting his cheek, you notice. A nervous habit of his and a clear indicator that he'd retreated inside his own head, likely contemplating if he'd truly deserved to win today or not.

Every few months his doubts crept in, the devil on his shoulder reminding him that Horner hadn't deemed him good enough to keep his seat at Red Bull after only a handful of races.

You'll never be as talented as them, is what you'd imagined it whispered. They're only here because they pity you. What makes you think you deserve a seat?

It couldn't be farther from the truth. Deep down, Pierre knew that. Driving in Formula 1 meant being under constant scrutiny from the public and sportscasters. Making an error meant debates about whether you were good enough and rumors about seat security.

There were no such errors today. You'd heard the commentary after the race; everyone was raving about his performance. Not one person had dared say he didn't deserve it.

Not wanting him to suffer alone, you subtly wrap your pinky finger around his. "You're okay," You say softly, his head whipping to you. "You deserved that trophy today. It was some of the best driving I've ever seen, everyone agrees. You deserve a trophy every time you get in that car. You'll always be my champion, even if the world tells you otherwise."

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but he nods and releases your pinkie. "You're my grounding rod," He says, lips curling in a knowing smile, and you can't hold back your laugh.

"Leave it to you to turn a romantic moment into a cheesy one." Instead of saying you're my rock like any normal person, he had to bring up the time you'd embarrassed yourself at the bar a year or so ago. He'd let you prattle on to poor Dan about building grounding rods of all things, and how you'd thought your professor's way of designing such a system was flawed. Pierre would never let you live that down, it seemed.

Max spots the two of you first, waving from where the boys had gathered outside Red Bull. “About time you showed up! We’ve been waiting for ten minutes!”

“She fell asleep,” Pierre says simply, his confidence back. “Takes her awhile to wake up.”

“Whatever, I’m just glad you’re here,” Daniel says, throwing an arm around your shoulders and tucking you tight to his side. You couldn’t help the broad smile creeping onto your face, twin to the aussie’s as you hug him back.

“We missed you,” Charles says, falling into step beside you. “I never hear from you anymore!”

You grimace. It was true, while the three boys had texted you quite frequently the past few months, you had barely responded to them. You felt guilty about it, knowing they were taking time out of their packed schedules to catch up. But uni had been kicking your ass and the only one you’d found time for was Pierre. Looking back, you were glad he had been the exception.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You say. “Lots of projects.”

“And that new internship,” Max points out. Your eyebrows flick up, gaze flicking to Pierre. You had been awarded an internship a month or so ago at a local engineering firm in London. It was only part time work, a few hours a week, but it was enough. The only one you had told was Pierre.

Pierre grins, the gesture a silent apology. “I may have spilled the beans.”

You cut him a glare, the others laughing at your attempt at being intimidating. But you couldn’t turn away from him, not when he was looking at you with the same pride you had felt when he’d won earlier that day.

“Uber’s here,” Charles announces, checking his phone.

“Where?” Daniel asks, and Charles indicates a black SUV parked at the curb. Daniel and Max exchange a look, shouting “Shotgun!” at the same time. Both boys break into a full sprint, feet pounding on the pavement. Daniel wins - barely, leaving Max and Charles to squeeze into the back seat.

Pierre follows you into the third row of seats, his hand immediately engulfing yours. Your stomach flips, glancing up to find a reassuring smile on his face. You could barely focus on what was said for the first half of the ride, hyperaware of the callouses rubbing your skin. The world around you erupts into color at the touch, completing the part of you that you’d never realized was missing.

The remainder of the drive is filled with laughter, jokes, and plenty of selfies with the driver. It wasn’t every day one could brag about having four world class drivers in your car; you couldn’t blame the man for being excited.

By the time you arrive at the bar, your sides are already splitting with laughter. “First round is on you, Ricciardo,” Charles says, wagging a finger at him. “Punishment for bringing up the Abu Dhabi incident again!”

“Jokes on you, I was already planning on it!” He glances at you and winks. “Gotta congratulate the winner somehow, right?” Little did the Australian know, you had already congratulated Pierre a few hours ago, and you doubted that a few shots would outshine that performance. You hope the pink tinge that rises to your cheeks with the memory isn't obvious and you duck your head just in case.

A blast of air conditioning hits you as you all stumble into the bar. All eyes fell to you and the ragtag group of drivers when you entered, silence blanketing the patrons. The bartender slams a fist on the wooden bartop, rattling glasses and making you flinch.

“Been wonderin’ when you lot were gonna show your ugly mugs!”

Daniel, Max and Charles erupt into friendly laughter, shaking the man’s hand and making small talk. You look to Pierre for an explanation.

“Tradition,” He murmurs. The noise returned to a normal level around you, though you could feel the glances thrown your way. “We come here every year, but only if one of us wins at Silverstone. Been awhile since that happened.”

"Ah," You say, nodding dramatically. "Yes, very long time." Pierre grins, shaking his head.

"Who won this year?" The man - William, Pierre informs you- asks. He towered over you when you sat on the sticky bar stool, tall and lanky but well muscled and certainly not someone you would expect patrons to try disrespecting. He was already pouring five shots of a fine Irish Whiskey, waving Daniel off when he tried to start a tab. “My treat.”

Max claps a hand on Pierre's shoulder. "This one claimed the crown, for once!"

"Wey hey!" William says, passing out the shots. "Everyone else crash out or what?"

"You should watch the replay," You say, knocking Pierre's shoulder with your own. "It was amazing. The move he used to get past Max-" you bring your pinched fingers to your lips in a chef's kiss. "Gorgeous."

"Much to Max's despair," Charles adds, raising his shot. "To the underdog!"

You all echo the sentiment, the boys knocking back the strong alcohol with practiced ease. It didn't go down as smooth for you, burning your throat and making you wince.

Daniel laughs. "Not used to drinking with us anymore, huh?"

"Must have lost my edge," You say, the woody taste lingering in your mouth. "I'm sure it'll hit me hard in a half hour or so, too."

**********

Well, you weren't wrong about the alcohol hitting you like a punch to the gut. Two shots later and you were swaying like a sailor on his first excursion out to sea, Pierre's shoulder the only thing keeping you from toppling off the bar stool.

Pierre's eyes were bright as the others poked fun at him, William joining in with a witty remark now and then. His laugh wrapped around you like a warm blanket, keeping you content and grounded.

"Hey Pierre," Daniel says at one point, "Don't look now but that table of girls has been obsessed with you all night."

Pierre, blitzed as he was, pays no attention to Dan's warning and turns around. A loopy grin was plastered on his face, turning back and shaking his head.

You may not have been able to think straight, but your stomach lurches. Instantly sobering slightly, you follow Dan's gaze to the indicated table to your left. Three beautiful women sat there, whispering behind their hands and clearly speaking about Pierre. One bit her lip and caught your eye, giggling. Her looks were universally attractive enough that she would be anyone’s type, Pierre included. The possessiveness in the gaze she raked over his body set your blood boiling.

This… was not a scenario you wanted to play out. You didn't know if Pierre was ready to tell his friends about your relationship yet. You knew he wouldn't let any of those girls have the light of day, but he might let them fawn over him a little, just to protect your secret. And it would kill you, but you would have no choice but to let it happen.

"I'm good," Pierre says, sipping the beer he had been nursing all night.

"Come on mate," Max pushes, a wicked grin on his flushed face, "That blonde is so your type."

No she isn't.

You’re already staring up at Pierre when he turns to you. You have always worn your emotions on your sleeve for anyone to see, and it only got worse when mixed with alcohol. Pierre smiles softly, taking mercy on you. Slowly, he takes your hand and threads your fingers together before turning back to the boys.

"One of you can tell them I’m not interested. I already have my girl."

Heart beating wildly, you scan your friends faces. They were all wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at your joined hands. Pierre gives your hand a gentle squeeze, reminding you to breathe. He read you like an open book, offering reassurance when you needed it most.

"It's about fucking time!" Daniel roars, breaking the tense silence. Your shoulders relax, grinning along with the others. Pierre beams at you, knocking your shoulder to say I told you so.

"Does this mean I get a break from listening to you obsess over her every weekend?" Max asks, giving you a meaningful look.

"Likely not," Pierre answers. "I'm still just as obsessed as before. Maybe more." Max pretends to gag, earning him a playful punch from Charles. God, it was so freeing for your relationship to be more open, even if it was just between your closest friends.

"I'd just like to point out that I told you two this would happen years ago," Charles says matter of factly, pointing at Max and Dan. "Should've taken you up on that bet."

Your mouth hung open. "You were going to bet on us being a couple?"

"Oh come on," Max says, rolling his eyes. "We all knew it was coming eventually. We just didn't know when!"

Pink stains your cheeks, but Pierre laughs and leans in to kiss you. Remembering the girls behind you, you press a little closer to him. Under the guise of placing a kiss to his cheek, you meet the blonde's eyes and smile sweetly.

The woman preens, mouth twisting. Good. Pierre was yours, and now that he'd admitted it, you could let those girls know it. His hand slips to your thigh, squeezing hard. A clear warning that you were venturing into dangerous territory. You didn't care.

The alcohol in your veins makes you bold, and you want to drive your point home. They could look all they wanted, but he was coming home with you. You push the boundary farther and bite the soft skin of his neck just hard enough to leave a mark. Pierre's hiss finally makes you pull back and look up at him innocently.

"Get a room," Daniel teases with a wink. You smile at him, mumbling an insincere apology. Your point had been made. The arrogant smirk had been wiped from the woman’s face, replaced with a grimace.

"I think it is time for us to get going," Pierre says, annoyance flashing across his face. Oh, you had stoked the fire and now you would have to face the consequences.

"We're just getting started," Charles complains. Pierre slaps a few bills on the counter and gets up without responding.

"Bye guys!" You call over your shoulder as Pierre drags you towards the door. They all wave back, Max's lower lip jutting out in a pout. Your eyes slid one more time to the blonde, who had her arms crossed over her chest. You give her a wicked, taunting grin and return her earlier wink.

Pierre halts so quickly that you run into him. “Why are we leaving?”

“You know why,” He growls, flagging down a cab. “You didn't like how she was looking at me, so you did something about it. You might not have noticed, but every man in that bar had their eyes on you. So I’m following your example and doing something about it.”

Your brow furrows. Pierre won’t meet your gaze, and your eyes fall to the purple mark on his neck. You didn’t like his tone; it bordered dangerously on anger. “Are you… Are you mad that I did that?”

Tears threaten to spill when he finally looks at you. God, you were a blubbering drunk. When your lip wobbles, his anger fades and he sighs. “I’m not mad. I just… I didn’t think you’d want me flaunting our relationship yet. When you did this-” He gestures to his neck- “I could barely keep my hands off you. Not when I saw the guy walking up to you.”

You sniff, trying to conjure the image of the bar. “I didn’t notice anyone.”

“Yeah, cause I dragged you out here before he could say anything.” Pierre pulls his hood up and sighs. “Trying to catch a cab here is harder than overtaking Hamilton.”

You laugh harder than you should at the off-hand remark, following after him as he trudges down the sidewalk. “Why are you not drunk? I feel like you should be drunk. You won a race. They were feeding you shots one after another.”

“One of us had to be responsible and make sure we got home okay.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “And I knew as soon as you had that first shot it would have to be me. Didn’t you notice me handing the shots to the other guys?”

“No,” You say, rubbing your eyes. “What about the boys? How are they gonna get home?” Pierre stops, forcing you to do the same. He tugs your hood up, makes sure his is secure enough to hide his face, and grabs your hand.

“I already told Seb to come round them up in an hour or so. They’ll be fine.”

You don’t respond, too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other and not fall on your face. It doesn’t help that your vision is a tad blurry. Finally you give up and whine, “How much further?”

“It’s right there,” He says, pointing at a towering glass building just across the street. “In five minutes, you can be tucked into a cozy, fluffy suite and you can rest all you want, my love.”

You hum at the words, warmth flooding your veins from more than the liquor. “I like that.”

“What, the building?” He asks, amused. He helps you cross the empty street, making sure you’re paying attention to where you’re going.

“Noooo, what you said,” You clarify, leaning on him as you try to navigate the handful of steps leading to the hotel.

He’s quiet until you reach the elevator. “My love,” He murmurs, and you grin up at him.

“Mon… mon coeur,” You manage to say, somehow pulling the French phrase out of the dregs of your memory. The words are slurred and you know that you absolutely botch the pronunciation, but the intent is clear. You may have lived in France since you were 18, but learning the language wasn’t a requirement when almost everyone knew english as well. But the two of you had spent many hours watching Pierre’s favorite french films over the years; some of it must have unintentionally rubbed off on you.

A disbelieving smile tugs at his lips. “How do you even know what that means?”

You shrug. “Just do.” The elevator doors open and you step out, Pierre following. You halt, not knowing which hall to take. You glance up at your companion for help, only to find him staring back at you. “What?”

He shakes his head and leads you down the corridor to his room. It's a spacious corner suite, with huge windows facing Silverstone that give him a perfect view of the track. You make for the window but Pierre’s hand on your wrist stops you.

“I don’t think so, it’s time for you to sleep.”

“But I just wanna see,” You protest weakly.

“Nice try. I know you. You’ll sit in front of that window for hours if I let you.”

You give in only because he was right. Cityscapes of any kind drew your attention like a moth to a flame. You pouted anyway, but let him take you to the bedroom. Gentle pressure on your shoulders had you sinking into the plush mattress, groaning at the luxurious softness. Pierre laughs as he helps you out of your shoes and jeans, leaving the hoodie.

Eyelids drooping, you climb under the covers Pierre had pulled back for you. He tucks you in and kisses your temple. You grab for him, tugging on his shirt until he stoops down and gives you a proper kiss. When he steps out of your grasp, you panic.

“Stay,” You mumble, fear bubbling in your chest. He had to stay, he couldn’t leave, not when you only had this one night left-

“I’m just taking off my shoes,” He assures you, his weight sliding in behind you to settle against your back. You sigh, moulding yourself to him as best you could. Being in his arms was somehow familiar, even if he’d never held you like this. It felt like home.

“Pierre?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Pillowy soft lips press to the nape of your neck. “I love you too, mon coeur.”

Tagging: @flashcal

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #formula 1 rpf #f1 rpf #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly fanfiction

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quirklessidiot · 5 years ago

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Title: filthy rich [3/3] Pairing: millionaire!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: mystery, major angst ahead, thriller, mafia!au-ish

Synopsis: Just run, Y/N. Don’t look back.

Warnings: dark and yandere themes, toxic relationships, mentions of violence, shady business, class differences, mentions of rape, smoll breeding kink, unwanted pregnancy, mentions of abortion, and sakusa being a manipulative bastard

Notes:

Im disappering again for a week or two so as a parting gift, here ya go, im starting a bokuto fanfic soon and posting the reboot of notice me soon too hnnng thanks for the wait guys uwu

A sorta realistic take on a yandere is harder than it looks kssjdn omg anyways here yall go the long awaited last chapter of filthy rich. I’m not sure if I should put like a one shot sequel but so far im marking this series completed. Thanks for sticking by!

previous || series masterlist || blood son [sequel;one shot]

You run your hands through your hair and shut your eyes tight, the quietness and stillness of your shared apartment was something to bask on before you put on a fake mask of happiness. It had been exactly two months since you found out about the birth control switch and the medaide agenda.

In the span of those two months, you had grown more observant towards your boyfriend’s actions and you knew that it wouldn’t be anytime soon until he actually notices that you were onto him.

You let out a shaky breath as you recollected some weird things you’ve seem to have noticed, how his brows would furrow when he’d receive a call indicating that something was up and it was serious or how you visited your ex-boss one time a week or so ago along with Kenjiro since you wanted to see how he was doing.

“...Well, he just didn’t come home and sold the place. Apparently he was in a rush to move or something because of family matters so I didn’t exactly see him.” the neighbor gossiped to you two.

“Y/N?”

You jump on your spot as you hear that dreadfully familiar voice.

“Hey,” You greet, walking up to him, you decide to do your usual hug but stop when you notice a small red stain on his necktie, the tie is dark blue and although it wasn’t obvious from afar, it definitely was up close. Your brows are furrowed together, this time in pure curiosity, “Did you get hurt? It’s unlike you to get messy.”

You notice the quick shift of attitude in his eyes, you were seemingly getting good at observing his emotions these days and it looked like he panicked for a second there.

Odd.

“A friend of mine had gotten hurt a while ago, you remember Atsumu Miya?”

A vivid image of a blonde man crossed your mind, he was another conglomerate friend of your boyfriend, another person to be weary of to add to the list, “Oh, is he alright?” you asked, trying to keep it casual as you untie his tie for him as usual.

“Yes. He’s awfully clumsy. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh…” You mumbled, “by the way, I visited my ex-chief.”

“Ex-chief?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, “You know, my boss from before? Me and a few co-workers decided to visit him since he was a really good boss. Turns out he just left without telling anyone, poor man.”

“Sounds unpleasant. Did you know why he quit?”

“No.” You shrugged as you take the tie out and place it on the side, “He suddenly just quit his job and moved, neighbors said it was also because of family matters. It’s kinda weird because as far as we knew, he didn’t have a family.”

“Would you like me to look into it?”

You almost stiffen when he slithers his arms on your waist but you didn’t want to give away any suspicion, “No. I don’t want to pry. Hopefully he’s enjoying his retirement.” You sighed, turning towards him with a tight smile, “Now what would you like for dinner? I was thinking Mediterranean? I need to lose some weight since I’ve been feeling bloated for a while.”

He leans in for a soft kiss on your temple, “Mediterranean would be fine. Would you like anything else? We could order more.” he hummed, his lips slowly started to dangerously hover on top of yours.

“No, it’s fine.” You give him a quick peck and wiggle your way out of his arms, your stomach doesn’t feel well these days. Whenever you were near Sakusa you had the urge to throw up your innards despite having an empty stomach.

You don’t notice the dangerous gaze on your behind as you pick up the phone for your take-out.

Sakusa hasn’t felt you in a long time and it’s driving him insane, he wants to feel your heat, your body, and everything in between. He wants to fill you up and see you pregnant with his children. He wants everyone in the world to know you were his and his only.

Yet he can’t do that.

You’ve ignored his affections these past few weeks and it had been driving him insane to the point where he had to ask one of his men to put an eye on you to see if you had been cheating on him or seeing someone else.

Yet you hadn’t.

Your routine was the same old one and Sakusa is digging his nails deeply into his skin in his office one day with his tie uncharacteristically untied. Miya Atsumu sits across him, taking a sip from his flask, “Ya look like shit.” the blonde points out.

“Fuck off, Miya.”

“Heard from your cousin that you’re not getting laid by your girl these days.”

“You better be thankful that you’ve got men behind you or I’d be shooting your fucking brains out for saying that.” Sakusa spats, his dark gaze pointedly looking at the blonde across him.

“You should just find someone else then and not yer prude of a-”

“Keep telling me ideas like that and maybe I might just shoot you and chop your body up until it looks fuckin’ unrecognizable.”

Atsumu raises his hands up, signaling that he was giving up, “Gee, omi-omi. I was just giving my advise. It’s so easy to drop her.”

“I don’t want to drop what’s mine.”

“You’ve got issues.” He chuckles, “Haven’t you been switching out her pills and fucking her raw for the last couple of months? I bet yer ass you got her pregnant on that before but ya just don’t know it. Getting her pregnant would definitely secure her spot in her life. Woman’s nuthin’ without ya.”

“She’s...she’s not showing…”

“When was the last time ya two went at it?”

“Two months ago.”

“Ya poor boy.” Atsumu sighs, shaking his head, “Ya sure you don’t want to take a break from being a loyal boyfriend for one night? i bet Y/N wouldn’t notice.”

“And no one would notice if you fucking disappeared. I’ll make sure of it, now get out.”

You may not have been the sharpest tool on the shed but you know that someone’s been tailing you these past few days, you’re not stupid. You could only come to the conclusion that it was Sakusa who was doing such things but you couldn’t get why.

Something just didn’t make sense. It felt like you were missing an important piece in the puzzle, med-aide and the switch of your pills and now a hidden tail?

You furrow your brows together in deep thought as you sat down next to a teenage boy on his phone, you decided to take the bus today to the grocery store, surprisingly the one tailing you wasn’t around today.

Your eyes slowly shift towards the boy’s phone, it seemed like he was playing a video game.

An otome game, to be exact.

You felt your lips twitch up, you remembered those games a lot growing up. The graphics seem to have massively improved now by the looks of it, “...That looks interesting.” You tell the teenage boy who turns to you in surprise.

“Oh, thanks.” the blonde replied quietly.

“Is that a new otome game?”

“Kind of.” He blinks, his gaze returning back to the screen, “It’s sort of a remake of the yandere simulator from back then.”

You feel your shoulders tense up.

“A yandere?”

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, “The girl’s awfully creepy in the game, she stalks him, does things to get him. The player has to catch her in the act and evade her at the same time.”

“Oh…” You blink, “I-uh, this is weird… but what’s a yandere again?’

“It’s someone obsessively in love with you. They’ll do anything to have you stay by them.” He says, pushing on a button but suddenly the screen turns red and you feel shivers run down your spine as you hear him curse and the words ‘you’re caught’ appear on the screen.

“W-what happened to your character?”

“He died. Nothing much.” he mumbles, “If the Yandere knows they can’t have you, they’ll kill you.”

You immediately went pale as soon as you heard that. Maybe, just maybe you were being paranoid. He wouldn’t go to that extent, would he?

“How did your character escape the yandere in the game?”

“Well, I haven’t finished the game yet but based on some anime’s and manga’s I've usually read. They either killed to get away or they moved so far away where they wouldn’t be seen so I think the creator might have the same ending.” The blonde said, he slowly looked to your side, “You’re looking awfully pale, ma’am. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, j-just remembered a horrible game I played back when I was your age.” You gulped in, “Nightmares, you know? The yandere tried to get my character pregnant and tried to get in her way of moving out of the country.”

“Sounds like a very realistic one.” He mumbles, “What did your character do?”

“I wasn’t able to finish it.” you whispered, loud enough for him to only hear, “I couldn’t really find a way out.”

“The developers of the game must’ve made it hard for you. Maybe your character should’ve ran away,” he advised, “Or better yet, you should’ve killed him.”

“I-well, I don't think there were options like that.”

“Well if I were you and there was no option for killing, I’d run. Far, far away. Change my identity and all that.” he exits the game and stuffs the phone back in his pocket, you get a good look of his cat-like eyes and immediately feel a shiver on your spine with the next words he say, “I mean its a game but you wouldn’t wanna loose and get your character killed, right?”

“R-right.”

The teenage boy hops down without even saying goodbye and you have a scary realization that you can’t break it off like you originally had planned. You needed to run, run far as you can and get lost.

The words that the teenage boy says echoes in your head for the next few days, from that point on, realization dawns upon you that, nothing is certain now. You couldn’t trust anyone, you couldn’t let friends and family be involved in this. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a powerful man so you needed to be careful with how you were going to disappear.

You continue to act nonchalant and the same as you try to lay out your plan but you knew that you had only a week or so to complete this for it to successfully work.

Sakusa Kiyoomi wonders what he should do to save the relationship, he’s tried everything in the book that he could think of but you remained the same. Was this the end of the relationship? For real?

He could never stomach the idea of having you leave him.

It’s eerie that day, something felt different when he came home to an empty apartment. It looked the same yet something felt very, very different. Apparently the apartment guards said you were here since your car hadn’t left the driveway and they hadn’t seen you go out.

He checks out your side of the closet, your clothes remain there untouched and your toiletries were there too. He scans the fridge for your notes but nothing is stuck there. He suddenly feels like something cold was dumped on him.

It couldn’t be, right?

Right?

He runs to every room, checking every nook and cranny and when he finally reaches the last room which was the bathroom, nothing is there.

Everything was in its place except you.

Where were you?

Your bank account remains untouched, your wallet and phone was left in the apartment. It was as if you were returning home, the very least. Komori tells him to calm down, saying that they’re letting the best people find you around the city, they don’t rule out that someone might’ve had the audacity to touch you.

Whoever took you would be given hell to pay, that’s for sure. Was it the triad? Kkangpae’s? Or opposing yakuza’s? Oh, they’ll definitely have their heads on the platter if they tried to harm a single hair on your head.

Sakusa doesn’t even hesitate to notify the police about you already despite the memorandum that twenty-four hours is needed to consider a person missing, it's nothing a little money can fix.

“I hope we find her soon.” Your aunt sighed, “I’ve notified her parents about it. It’s definitely weird that she’d leave all her valuables behind.”

Hinata and Natsu sit there next to their mom, completely sad and worried, “I’ve hired the best people for it already, obaasan. We’ll find Y/N.” Sakusa replies yet his thoughts are in a complete frenzy now.

And find you they did.

No stone was left unturned. He made sure of it. Yet after a month of relentless searching. Nothing came up, it seemed like you had just vanished and Sakusa Kiyoomi had turned the whole underground world upside down for you but nothing came up.

Some say that you disappeared and ran away but that was immediately ruled out, no security cameras saw you in and out during that day and it would be impossible for you to just leave without security cameras on you. The guard had exclaimed that despite the blackout that day, the generators only took a few minutes to power up so they’d definitely catch you on camera in case you ever exited the building (along with the guards since they knew exactly what you looked liked) plus the clothes and such were still there, left untouched.

Some said you died, it was definitely impossible for you to just vanish without a single trace after all since everyone was looking for you.

Yet no one dared to say it in front of the boss, not if they valued their life.

The billionaire had dried out his connections to find you. What good was it to be the most powerful and richest man in the country if he couldn’t find you? Life had no meaning now, you were gone. It felt like a part of him was ceasing to function.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a dead man walking now.

Unknown to the whole world, you’re in a small town with little to no signal. Your hair is chopped unevenly and your skin is darker from the repeated exposure under the sun, your life is simple and mundane now yet you’re happy.

For the first time in months, you actually felt free.

You shut your eyes tight, the events that transpired this past few months replayed in your head. Your escape was definitely done as carefully as you can and you didn’t even know if you’d succeed since you weren’t a master in that sort of thing.

You recalled that it was a week before you ran away, a few days after you met that kid in the bus. Someone from the electric company had come to inform you that there was a scheduled black out in the city that day during the afternoon and you felt something bubble up in you. That was the day you’d put your plan into motion.

You knew that the longer you delayed your plan, the harder it would be to escape.

You had a few minutes to actually put your plan to work. The camera’s on the hallways would cease to function for a few minutes according to the guard downstairs as he did a protocol on the building (apparently the generators were quick). So that morning after Sakusa left, you placed only a few clothes and the stash of money you had been carefully hiding in a garbage bag and chopped your hair short in an uneven manner. Burning all the remaining hair on the fireplace and the black hair color that you use with it. The maid uniform that you stole on your floor and a fake name plate that you made was on and you were good to go.

The minute the black out started, you took the garbage bag and walked out. Taking the stairway used by the caretakers, you made sure to just look down and never directly up at the camera’s pretending to work.

When you finally made it out of your building. You let out a stiff sigh and put down the bag, it was only the beginning. If you thought the same way as Sakusa Kiyoomi, you could only imagine that you needed to be more careful from this point on.

You take the newly bought duffel bag that you strategically hid behind some boxes. Thankfully when you had placed it yesterday afternoon, it hadn’t been touched.

You put on a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt with cheap shades and stuffed the maid uniform in the duffel bag along with your belongings in the garbage bag. You take the other route that led to the busy streets. It was easy to look like a tourist and seemingly blend in the crowd, from that point on, you only had one destination in mind.

When you were younger, you vividly remember an acquaintance telling you about this small town outside of Tokyo where her grandparents were from. It was only an hour away via plane and when you went down another few hours via bus yet if you took the bus route all in all, it would take a few days.

Since it was far, only a few busses actually went there and since you had to leave within the day, you decided to just take the bus nearest to that town and take another bus when you arrived there.

The plan smooth-sailed from that point on.

Except for one minor detail.

You open your eyes and look down at your now small bump. The monster who almost had you trapped left a parting gift, you grip your garden hoe tightly.

A big part of you wanted to kill it.

Yet every time you try to, you hesitate.

The moment you arrived here, you had to pretend to be a weary and poor widow. You just didn’t expect to be a weary and poor expecting widow. You let out an uncharted sigh at the thought, it was hard enough to be alone here with little to no money.

This child had the demon’s blood in it.

Yes, you may have gone free from his cage but in truth with his seed growing in your stomach day by day, you started to feel quite the opposite.

taglist [thanks for your support ilyasm skkss im so sorry for updating late too :(]

@maraudusk ;; @iamnotobsessed ;; @ssuna ;; @weebartistinc ;; @aomineavenue ;; @tsukkismamagucci ;; @onlyshinji ;; @ichiraku-verse ;; @watevermelon ;; @victoriasee ;; @caramelcandescence ;; @n-nara ;; @bloody-bella ;; @ricefarmerkita ;; @paripedia ;; @srhlsx ;; @craftyfawns ;; @kepchups ;; @soggycardboardd ;; @vinnieluv ;; @dinablossom ;; @yourstruly-01 ;; @shinhiromi ;; @dinablossom ;; @kneecotinee ;; @vicassa ;; @ahoeforshouto ;; @benimarus-main-mop ;; @atsunakaashi ;; @myaaa-xoxoxox ;; @newfriendjen ;; @usedcoupon

@kn0xiousnight

[can’t tag you guys uwu just make sure ur tags are open :<]

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #yandere!sakusa #idk its my take on yandere and toxic relationships #haikyuu scenarios #📝📝.Filthy rich series #hostclub.adulting

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tiffdawg · 5 years ago

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The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

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… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer.

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip.

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight.

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!”

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.”

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he responded quickly.

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word.

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din.

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“Last time–”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.”

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

“Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed.

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.”

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.”

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.”

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted.

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night.

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed.

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both.

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

“Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”

“Of your future on Lah’mu?”

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.”

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction.

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him.

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire.

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling.

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.”

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #fic: the light of stars

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philicheesecake · 4 years ago

Text

Refugees pt 1 (vore fic)

Note: this takes place with my two newest OCs, Zi and Baka. I might write more about them as their story comes to me. I haven’t given them an exact size yet, but for now I’m saying Baka is 7-9 ft tall while Zi is 4 ft tall.

Warnings: Soft attempted fatal vore, minor burns and injuries, but safe in the end. A lot of cursing and general stinky behavior from Baka

—————

It had been nearly a week hiding underground. The sewer systems were growing claustrophobic and the darkness only grew as the two travelers tried to conserve the energy of their flashlight. Food supplies had run out two days ago, and both of them were growing restless.

Prince Baka as usual seemed to not take the situation seriously. How could he? He was a sheltered spoiled brat who knew nothing of how the real world worked. Zi was only doing their best to try to keep him out of trouble.

But now starving, with no clean water supply, and lost within the winding dark tunnels, anything seemed preferable to dying in here.

Zi stepped ahead through the tunnels, ears twitching as they listened out ahead for any sign of danger before motioning behind them to follow. There was a pause, but now steps forward. Only an exhausted groan. Then a splash.

Zi blinked in confusion, turning to see the prince trying to get up, having to crouch badly within the tunnels even as he got to his feet, due to his towering size. With the dimming flashlight shining towards his face, his weathered features could be seen. A crocodilian-esque being with three webbed crests spanning from his head to the tip of his tail. His green eyes were dry and exhausted.

"Mmmstarvin'. Fuckin starvin' down here," the prince bellowed weakly. "Can't go on like this..."

Zi sighed, stepping patiently over to the prince and mutely held out their hand to try to stabilize him to encourage him forward. The prince leaned his weight on Zi, before toppling over, splashing into the smelly sewage on top of the smaller creature. Zi coughed, wiping the contaminated water off of their face and grunted as they tried to crawl out from under the prince, trying again to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled, resisting the assistance, seeming set on dying here and now, in the midst of his toddler-like dramatic tantrum.

"Mmmwwwanna die then," Baka whined.

Zi grunted silently under their breath, managing to crawl out from beneath the prince and tugged on the side of his arm to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled dramatically once again, not wanting to move. "Lemme stay here. Don't wanna move... leave me to die..."

His stomach growled pleadingly, echoing through the dark tunnels. Zi sighed, letting the prince's arm splash to the ground like a ragdoll. They picked up the flashlight again and stood before the prince, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "Wait here,"

With a small bow of their head, they left through the tunnels, leaving Baka lying baffled in the puddles. Baka had told Zi to leave, but he hadn't really expected them to. Zi had sworn to serve him until they were freed. Did they just see the prince's death as their chance of freedom?

"You can't fffuckin tell mmme what to do!" The prince babbled. His voice only echoed uselessly through the sewers. He let out a whale-worthy moan and slumped back down in the puddles. He smelled awful. He hated the smell. He hated Zi. He hated his family. He hated the world. He hated everything. With this litany of hatred coursing through his mind, he slowly succumbed to sleep, believing this to be death at last.

A gentle hand shaking his shoulder was what brought him back to his senses, and the returning light of Zi's flashlight. Baka grumbled tiredly, closing his eyes again, not wanting to be brought back into this hell. He was perfectly content lying in this puddle and hating everything, and sleeping. He didn't have to exist in this disgusting sewer if his mind was somewhere else.

It seemed Zi had other plans, however. The smaller reptilian's soft voice insistent through the silent dripping ambience of the sewers. "There is a path leading to a river. We can get fresh water and fish there,"

The prince seemed reluctant at first, but anywhere but here was ideal. He was starving, and fish sounded better than nothing. He hoped it wasn't raw, though. He groaned as he lifted his head, reaching for Zi for assistance to get to his feet. Zi complied as well as they could, though they were just as equally deprived of strength, they just tried not to show it as much.

They led the prince to a low opening where the sewer runoff poured into a polluted river. It wasn't the sight that Baka had wished for, but anywhere was better than those sewers. He was never going in there again. Zi made sure the coast was clear before hopping softly into the river and nodded for the prince to follow. Baka collapsed into the running water, rolling a bit beneath the surface before resurfacing, refreshed to have his scales rid of the sewage slush and at least feeling a little cleaner. It seemed Zi had already done so before leading Baka there, visibly appearing cleaner in the better light. Although it was night out in the fresh air, the light from the stars and moons was almost overwhelming to get used to after being stuffed in the pitch darkness of the sewers for so long.

Zi frowned, looking into the river hopefully, though even in the darkness, they knew the prince was right. "We can at least collect some water here. But we can't stay out here for long."

"You fuckin cheated me," the prince growled. "You kept my fuckin hopes up this whole fuckin time. 'Just last one more day sir,' 'now isn't the time for cannibalism. I am here to serve you' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' and again and again and again and AGAIN. I'm fuckin SICK of this disaster," he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "So you have to serve me one last fuckin time here. Help me out,"

Zi's brow furrowed slightly, showing the slightest trace of concern before stepping closer to take to the prince's side, seeming to assume that Baka needed some help standing. Baka's behavior altered, however, gripping Zi a little too tight for support, instead, bringing them closer and his mouth yawned wide above them, suddenly clamping his jaws over their shoulders. Zi was shocked, sucking in a surprised breath. The prince had mentioned eating Zi before while they were in the tunnels, but they hadn't considered that he would really do it. In panic, they struggled against the prince's grip, but he simply ignored it. The prince's mouth watered heavily, drenching Zi's upper half with sticky drool and drew them in deeper, beginning to swallow. The throat opened up before them and the slight jerking of the jaws forced Zi in deeper despite their protests. The tight throat dragged them downwards more quickly with each swallow and the shove of Baka's hands.

He didn't have long to enjoy this feast, however, when a beam of light shown down from the slope near the river and a team of uniformed armed men were all directed at him, quickly making their approach to surround him. The prince tried to sit up, wincing as the weight in his stomach sloshed and resettled from the action. "Can you just leave me for five fuckin minutes?" Baka grunted. The soldiers surrounded him and patted him down to search for any weapons, finding none, before binding his hands behind his back and led him up to their transport.

Sitting alone in the back of the high-security transport vehicle, he could feel Zi's struggles begin to weaken. They were just as weak as him, and he doubted they would last long. They seldom spoke normally, though he could hear their normally level voice sound out more fearful, albeit muffled, pleading for reason. The prince didn't bother listening, pressing a hand to his middle to coax them into digesting already.

"You're wasting your breath in there. You dragged me through fuckin hell, and now ya get your fuckin share of it," Baka grunted under his breath.

Zi went silent, hugging themselves in the hot, slimy darkness. Their struggles stopped, but their breathing was still fairly normal, a little panicked. They were probably trying to preserve energy.

"My service meant nothing?" They spoke quietly.

"Your service meant food that I should've given into a week ago," Baka grumbled. "And now we got captured anyways, so dragging me through those sewers was fuckin useless."

Zi went dead still, probably from disbelief, or despair, though it was hard telling their reaction without a visual. Not that Baka cared anyways. They should be dead soon.

The car came to a halt and the back doors opened from the truck. Armed guards led prince Baka through a sheriff's office, leading him to one of the back cells. They had been remote enough to be far from the capitol, so the police had to wait for the officials to show up before transporting him back to the new enemies' capitol.

For now, Baka slumped within the holding cell, lying back on the hard bed. "I don't wanna die... they're going to kill me," Baka spoke to himself, though his occupant heard. Ironic that he was complaining about dying while he was currently killing his most loyal and perhaps only ally.

"If you let me out, I can help... we can escape again," Zi offered hopefully, trying to keep emotion out of their voice. It was really beginning to sting in there, and the acid levels were steadily rising. The clenching walls persisted to grind the caustic fluids into Zi's exposed skin, and it was growing increasingly painful and unnerving.

"Mmmh, I don't wanna," Baka responded.

"Neither of us want to die, Baka. If we fail, we both die. If we succeed, we both live. If you kill me now, it would be inevitable for both of us,"

Baka groaned. He didn't respond for a moment, rubbing his gut almost mournfully. The acids were getting worse from this action, their level rising to fill half the chamber. Zi withheld a worried whimper in their throat, trying to keep their chin above the acids. The walls suddenly clenched tighter around the smaller reptile, painfully this time, nearly crushing their ribs, before the motion forced Zi back up the throat, carrying them upward with difficulty. The little breath they had collected was squeezed out of their lungs and they choked on the slime around them, nearly suffocating before their release.

A gagging sound and a glimmer of hopeful light beyond the jaws greeted them before they were coughed up onto the floor in a puddle of slime and acids. Zi gasped for air, shuddering violently and coughed up the slime that had caught in their throat. They dragged themselves across the floor to prop themselves against the wall of the cell, looking over at the prince with unveiled residual fear in their eyes.

Baka was on the floor lying on his stomach with drool dripping from his jaws, looking further nauseous and miserable. He let out a long drawn-out dramatic groan.

Zi hastily tried to wipe some of the slime off of their face, glancing down with a disgusted shudder to notice the nasty burns that marred their scales. They couldn't focus on that traumatic experience though, shakily getting to their feet. They stumbled over to the barred entrance of the holding cell, examining the lock and took out a lock pick, beginning to get to work.

A small click sounded once they succeeded, and they looked over at the prince, trying to help him to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, and Zi was almost too afraid to release him. Just as they helped Baka to his feet, alarms suddenly blared. They winced, ears flattening back and they looked towards the doorway fearfully.

"...fuck," Baka growled.

"We have to go," Zi went out the opening of cell, looking carefully down the hallway. Oddly, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and action was heard further within. Their brow furrowed in confusion, and they stepped silently into the main area of the police station, Baka dragging himself behind them with no regards for stealth, and seeming further interested in making as much of a dramatic scene as possible along the way.

The door opposing them suddenly swung open and several assorted armed men entered, not wearing the police uniforms, and appeared like standard civilians. Their eyes lit up in relief and one rushed forward to greet the freed prisoners with a bow. "Prince Baka, please come with us. We're here to help, and we're loyal to your line to the end,"

#v/ore #v.ore #soft vore #nonfatal vore #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #alligator vore #gator vore #crocodile vore #anthro vore #vore story

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raymondebidochonlifechoices · 4 years ago

Text

Portrait of the FBI trainee as a young adult

or Some thoughts on how Riverdale aged up their teen protagonists

Jumping seven years in the future over the span of just seven days is not an easy feat, but it can certainly be done: changes in physical appearance and “adult” stories are very useful tools. But this is Riverdale, which means that, while all characters are adults in season 5, some characters are more adults than others.

Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge and Toni Topaz, in particular, come to mind.

Adult Veronica has been blessed with a new sensational wardrobe befitting a more mature character. To be honest I’ve never met a 25-year-old dressed like Ronnie, however, her clothes are those of a grown up. Character-wise nothing has changed for adult Veronica. However, she had always been portrayed more like a young adult businesswoman than a typical teenager. So, in a way, post-time-jump Veronica hasn’t so much changed, as grown into her age. As a result, she might not be different from her pre-time-jump self, but she is convincing as an adult.

Toni had a similarly drastic change of wardrobe, accompanied by equally drastic changes in terms of her character: Toni is now pregnant but -most importantly- in a position of authority. She might not have her own story line yet as advertised (so far, she has supported the plots of Big Bad Hiram, Hero Archie, Investigator Betty and Isolation Queen Cheryl), however, in every scene she has been portrayed as someone dealing with adult responsibilities and being successful at that. She runs the Whyte Worm, she used to work at Riverdale Social Services, she’s Riverdale High School’s guidance counselor, she secures financing for the school and its activities, under her captaincy the Vixens have become a winning sports team heading out to championships. Adult Toni is drastically different from teen Toni.

The most adult character, however is Jughead. In terms of physical appearance, he has ditched his trademark beanie and very recognisable wardrobe for a new set of clothes, a couple of tattoos, glasses and facial hair (that some love and some hate). In terms of story lines, like Toni, he has the most adult ones. And the most different ones from those of his youth. He has meetings with his agent where he talks about his job. He no longer investigates to unravel Riverdale’s mysteries as much as he interviews people for a book, for which he already has a contract and a deadline. He takes a second job to make ends meet. He faces debt. He (supposedly) drinks a lot. As a teacher, his storyline has been the most realistic of them all. Instead of condoning dance-offs with 25-year-old Cheryl or being given a class of minions like Veronica (wasn’t that a very taciturn and obedient bunch …), Jughead is shown staying out late to prep for class and giving pop quizzes to students who are actually unprepared/bored/rude. Mobster-like debt collectors and alcoholism aside, his “adultness” is the most relatable and the most easily recognized as such.

And then, there’s Betty … Who, apart from her longer hair, has been given a mixed wardrobe of 1. new adult capri pants and heels, 2. her old high school combo of sweaters and collars (that she often wears when she investigates – which makes for quite the visual throwback to her high school sleuthing years) and 3. an FBI jacket than makes her look even younger than when she was blackmailing Donna back in the day. Betty’s natural make-up makes her look especially young. (Hadn’t Lili commented once upon a time about how they had gradually darkened Betty’s make up in s2 or 3?) In terms of characterisation, unlike Toni and Jughead, and much like Veronica, Betty is given the exact same material: in her case that’s: “investigating sleuth usually barging into places demanding answers”. Unlike Veronica, however, Betty has not grown into her role, because from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to Nancy Drew, the teenager-badass-investigator-played-by-an-older-actress has been an effing trope, and, so far, the writers have failed in differentiating between 18-year-old Betty and 25-year-old Betty in terms of dialogue, set ups, story lines, agency. In other words, FBI trainee Elizabeth Cooper lacks adult gravitas.

Disclaimer #1: this is in no shape or form a diss on the actress, whom I like a lot. This is a diss on the writers, who didn’t bother to update an extremely tropey character, when they updated her on-screen age.

Disclaimer #2: neither is this a diss on the actor playing Jughead, whom I also like a lot. Just because he’s getting better material, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t put in the work: from suggesting the glasses to Jughead’s fed-up, weary, disbelieving or conspiracy-excited new mannerisms.

Then there’s also the matter of how Veronica, Archie and Jughead, all have regular partners for their post-time-jump story lines, whereas Betty has been given the short end of the scene partners stick.

>> Veronica’s foe is daddykins/Chad (who is, anyway, just another version of daddykins).

>> Archie’s story is Archie & his posse against the world. His partners even dress alike to reinforce the idea that they act as one unit! In 5x5 it is Archie and his posse of similarly leather-clad friends against the Ghoulies. In 5x6 it is Archie and his wannabe Bulldog students against the illusive football funding. In 5x7 it is Archie and his similarly dressed merry band of volunteer firefighters against the blazing inferno that is Riverdale.

>>Jughead shares half his scenes with the same new, exciting and extremely likable Tabitha Tate.

>> Betty’s scene partners, however, are seemingly whoever is available at the moment. Polly. Alice. Kevin. Archie if naked. Glen. A trucker. Dr Curdle Jr, A victim’s mother. Reggie. None of them stands out. As this is Riverdale, it’s hard to tell if this is bad writing (focusing on other characters and letting, for some reason, Betty fend for herself, counting on her popularity to maintain the viewers’ interest) or a conscious choice to portray her as being isolated. If, however, it’s the latter, it does the character no favours at all. Jughead’s also isolated, but his plot is new and exciting. In Betty’s case, 1. we’ve already watched the story of her searching for her missing sister when she was a sophomore and 2. I don’t particularly care about any of her scene partners, who are either secondary characters or people we’re not going to see ever again! And this makes her storyline, for lack of a better word: boring (or, in naked Justin Gingerlake’s case, extremely annoying).

I’m absolutely elated to see Betty investigate with Jughead, not only because this will eventually lead to Bughead, but also for the possibility that her mystery plot line will finally become more engaging. That’s not a very nice thought to have for your favourite female character. That’s not a very nice way to treat your most popular female character, especially when you have previously “gifted” her with a cheating story line and the least popular ship (yes, barchie, that’s you).

5x7 came and went and I’m still waiting to see what’s new about Betty Cooper and her storyline. (This is true about Veronica and Archie too, however, this is a bughead blog, so Jughead and Betty take priority! – and, also, let’s be honest, I never cared much about Archie.)

I do not appreciate that FBI trainee Cooper is written exactly the same way as teenager sleuth Betty. Why affiliate her to the FBI if you’re not going to give the character real authority? I do not appreciate the writing choices that make 5x5-5x7 Betty’s plot boring. Why come down so hard on your show’s most popular female character? I love Betty Cooper, both with Jughead and on her own. Likewise, I love Jughead both as part of bughead and on his own. Adult Jughead definitely has my attention. So, when may I have my interesting adult badass female character back?

#Riverdale season 5 #Riverdale writers negativity #Betty Cooper #anti-barchie #this was triggered by the scene of Glen's phone call #the only thing missing #was that damn Lollipop ringtone

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