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hedonistic-peacock · 1 year

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Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 7: Imagination

Zoro's friend Usopp showed up, with Zoro, at 10am on Saturday. You all sat down and talked about options and modifications and what Usopp could and couldn't install. When you started asking him about possible off-the-record modifications, Usopp seemed to get uncomfortably nervous about the idea, so you let it drop.

By the end of the conversation, you'd agreed to a few things, and had set a date for Usopp to come back, along with Zoro again, to get it all installed. Usopp left and Zoro stayed behind for a little while.

"He seemed completely determined to not once be in the house with me by himself." You muse, handing Zoro a beer and sitting in the recliner.

"I told him about the time the jack failed in Eustass' shop and you lifted the car off Wire." Zoro says. "I think he's worried you'd break him in half. He's a good guy, but he's skittish."

You laugh, half-grumbling about it, "Eustass wouldn't shut up about it for a month, and I swear my arms were noodles for a week after. I couldn't do it again though. It was pure adrenaline and nothing else. But that's why there's a strict multi-jack policy in place at the shop now."

"Still," You muse putting your own drink to your lips and taking a gulp. "I can't imagine people being afraid of me. I barely clear 60 inches, Eustass calls me mouse, for fuck's sake."

"(Y/N)." Zoro is giving you a look.

"Yeah, okay. I get it, I get it." Zoro had almost joined Pops' crew, and he was best friends with Luffy. You knew each other because you grew up around the boys – specifically, you grew up around them learning how to fight and as such had learned how to defend yourself. Thatch said you could've made money doing MMAs and boxing if you'd wanted, but while you didn't dislike fighting, you didn't have a passion for it.

"Besides, Eustass only calls you Mouse because he's half a mountain on his own."

You almost choke. "Yeah, I used to think the only person who had more presence was Pops, but Zoro if you ever get to meet this Donquixote guy, he makes Eustass look short."

Zoro raises an eyebrow. "Gonna let someone new in?"

"Eh." You shrug and take another drink, a ring of the doorbell gets your attention and you set your drink down and go to answer the door. "I suppose it has been a long time."

A young man with blonde hair in bike shorts, a tight t-shirt, and heels is standing on the porch with a suitcase. You tilt your head at him in confusion and he smiles.

"Young master said to deliver this package to you, Miss (Y/N)." He states cheerfully.

"Oh! Oh, right. Yeah, thank you, uh?"

"Dellinger, Miss (Y/N)."

"Dellinger." You smile. "Killer heels, kid, sweet outfit too."

Dellinger's face lights up and he bounds off the porch and back to the bike he'd apparently ridden to get here. Kid had legs like Sanji's. Well, less hairy, but he looked like he could knock someone senseless with a well-placed kick.

Zoro raises an eyebrow after you close the door.

"Tomorrow I am being repaid for saving the latest stray." You explain, tilting your head up and putting on an air of haughtiness. "I kept refusing, and this was the compromise – he gets a day of my time, and I'm sure I'm going to get a couple free meals out of it." Setting the suitcase on the floor, you pop it open and look inside.

"Clothes?" You mutter, holding up a pair of new comfy looking sweatpants. "I guess tomorrow has a dress code, and he wanted to be sure I could comply. Ah, a letter."

Miss (Y/N),

I was unsure if your recent uninvited guests had damaged anything you may need for our time together tomorrow, so please forgive me for ensuring you would have the items required.

Below that was a list of things included and when you were expected to utilize them. A shirt and sweatpants set for a relaxing breakfast, a swimsuit with an additional note that you didn't need to participate in swimming if it would be uncomfortable. There was a nice dress for an evening dinner, and all the required accessories along with it.

You took out the dress and held it up against yourself, standing up and giving it a look over. It was modest and quite beautiful, a gradient lavender that deepened into dark purple at the bottom. The accents and embellishments weren't over the top, and it was the right length.

Zoro lets out a low whistle.

"Right?" You agree. "Man's got taste, I'll admit." You carefully return it to the suitcase. "I'm not even going to be surprised if this all fits like a glove either."

"It's not at all unsettling?"

"Honestly, no it's not." You shrug. "It's almost flattering to be paid attention to so closely. Now, if things go south and I want to leave and he turns into a stalker, then it'll be less flattering." You clarify. "But if it gets to that point, I have a good idea of what he's capable of and I'll be able to plan what I need to do more effectively."

Zoro grunts, and you assume he's agreeing with your point.

"Hm?" You look back down at the letter and realize there's more on the back after the list of items and the notations beside them. Laughing, you read it out loud, doing your best Doflamingo impression.

"If anything isn't up to your exacting standards, my dear, please call the number below and I'll be sure to meet your requirements." You laugh. "My exacting standards, huh? What a delightfully smarmy bastard."

Zoro doesn't say anything, but you catch the smirk he tries to hide behind his drink.

"Shut up." You quip.

"I didn't say anything."

"You pantomimed with that smirk. I heard it – er, saw it." You grouse, and then your face splits into a devious grin. "I wonder what dear old dad would think about this." The dripping sarcasm in your voice makes it obvious you're not referring to Pops.

Zoro was quiet for a moment. "When's the last time you talked to him?"

"It's still been fifteen years." You admit. "If he even knows I'm alive, I'd be surprised."

"You're not worried about this 'Mingo guy sorting out who he is?"

"No." You sit back down now that you've tucked the suitcase back into its original state. "If things get serious I was going to tell him anyway. Besides, what good would knowing do? My father would shoot me through the head if it resulted in just one more criminal off the streets.

"Besides, Pops and the boys are better family, even if it's all unofficial."

You finished your drinks quietly before Zoro leaves. It's mid-afternoon, and you find you'd pulled yourself into a downer of a mood reminiscing about your biological father. You pull out your phone and turned it over in your hands for a moment, wondering who you could call to distract yourself, when you smile.

Typing in the "Unknown Caller" number that had appeared last night you sent a text.

(Y/N): I commend your taste in attire, and graciously accept your altruism.

You smile as you hit send, you feel like 'altruism' isn't a word often associated with Doflamingo. The cover company Smile does have some charity donations done on its behalf, but almost every business does that nowadays to at least seem caring.

You save his number into your contact under 'Trouble' and get a reply shortly after.

Trouble: I am hardly altruistic.

Chuckling, you notice more coming in, so you give him a moment to continue.

Trouble: If I were truly altruistic, I would've accepted your desire that I leave your debt unpaid.

(Y/N): Ah, so tomorrow is for your own selfishness as well?

Trouble: Indeed, though I believe you will enjoy it.

(Y/N): Not much of a payment if there's that much pleasure for you.

You grin at your own cheekiness. The one drink wasn't enough for you to be able to blame it on the alcohol, but ruffling this guy's feathers was fun even while sober. The longer you interacted with him the more you wanted to push him off his game. He was too calm, too collected, too aggravatingly cool.

You wanted to hear him stammer or see his jaw go slack just once. Maybe twice.

Trouble: Then I will simply have to try harder after tomorrow to see you repaid properly.

Okay, one drink on an empty stomach might have been too much, because you could feel yourself sober up at the implication of his text. It took you longer to form a reply than you had liked.

(Y/N): Proper repayment would've been no repayment. Tomorrow is the compromise.

His only response was the sunglasses emoji, and the lop-sided smirk on the simple graphic seemed to say far more than intended. You could feel yourself being hunted, and you weren't entirely sure you wanted to evade it.

If you didn't cool your jets before tomorrow, you were going to be a mess of sensitive skin and red cheeks. You had been glad to know that while some of your more embarrassing toys had been discovered, they hadn't been tossed like everything else. Whoever Doflamingo's traitor had been, gods rest his corpse at this point you're sure, they had at least had the good sense to leave your battery-operated boyfriends alone.

Because of that, you were certain that whoever tidied up in here had also had the good sense to be discreet or leave the box alone completely. Either way, you were relieved to find that everything was how you had left it.

After an impressive number of rounds you extracted yourself from the bed and went about cleaning up yourself and the toys. you weren't sure it had the desired effect, however, since you kept hearing his voice rumble in your ears while you were failing to imagine any other scenario. You even tried to picture Law instead. You hadn't done anything like that together, but he was good looking.

Okay, he was hot, he was super-hot, and if he wasn't a cranky over worked bastard with his own family ties, you probably would've done something like that at some point. But while your imagination had started out the right way, you very quickly found yourself in the clinic room with Doflamingo, already shirtless, managing to look delicious even under harsh light.

Even your own mind is betraying you.

#Family Ties #donquixote doflamingo #doffy x reader #doffy #reader insert #x reader #doflamingo x reader #mondern mafia au

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cutiecrates · 7 months

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Game Review: Nyakori's Rabbit Doll (no/minor spoilers, minor blood)

I wanted to start my "cute game review" series with a disclaimer. I play a wide range of video games, and games that appeal to me usually have a cute aesthetic/appearance, and what I view as cute might not not be viewed the same way as others. I want to talk about cute games, but I'd like to also like about some other games too now and then.

For example, I decided to make my first review on an rpgmaker horror I saw while browsing Steam. There's a handful of people I watch who play these types of games on Youtube and they never played or even mentioned this one, so I gave it a shot because it looked too cute to pass up!

"One evening, Nyarutoru wakes up to find Nyakori and her rabbit doll have gone missing. While searching for her sister, Toru is led to a mysterious home. She runs into Kori, but someone has stolen her rabbit doll, forcing the two girls to go deeper into the large building to reclaim it. Along the way, Toru realizes that Kori isn't acting like herself…"

Nyakori's Rabbit Doll plays like a typical Rpgmaker/point and click game (you can even play it like one, this game offers mouse and touch control). The goal is to get from point A to point Z by interacting with the environment to look for new items, clues or puzzles while keeping Toru out of harm's way.

The majority of the game takes place inside this building, with one section late-game taking place outside of it. However, the locations all vary and this game features all sorts of "flavor text" that make it a lot of fun to click on everything and see what it says. Some of it is obvious (like a basket might just say "basket"), but others might lead to a remark from the character. There is also text for inventory items, some of which provide hints or alludes to something else:

Dialogue/Text

You might have noticed on the Steam page or the corner of my images, the game's title is written in Chinese. Well, that's because this game was originally Chinese, which is probably evident with the grammar and spelling being all over the place.

I noticed at the beginning of the game it's fine, and there are a lot of places where the text is good. But then it seems like as the game continues, it starts to become more apparent.

Expect to see the word "wired" a few times. It's supposed to be weird, which they do spell right a few times, which further confused me...

There is this also glaring example, which pops up a lot:

You'll see it every time you get a new item. I want to assume this was just an oversight, but they translated the item names so I don't know what to make of it.

Even the Steam page is full of grammar issues, but I will say that it's not enough to hinder the game. It's still clear enough to figure out what to do or what was going on.

Difficulty

It's not really difficult at all.

It offers several save points and an autosave feature (optional), the 3 "mini-games" have an easy option if you fail it once and beats it for you (and this doesn't penalize you at all). There are also tips and hints in the form of text throughout the game, either provided by talking to Kori, observation, looking at items in the inventory or using the "cursed cat food". Supposedly, using it too many times does something? I don't know what because I kept using it in a separate file and nothing happened. But I didn't feel like replaying the game through a fourth time in a short time span, so I stopped after a half hour.

This game is extremely forgiving if you let it be. Any death I triggered was basically because of my own curiosity, it was very rarely due to messing up. There are a couple of cheap deaths but they weren't abundant, so I didn't really feel annoyed by them.

There was only one, real thing that I got stuck with during the game:

At an early point you come across this mirror that depicts a number. A few rooms later, a box asks for it. To some people the numbers might obviously be 8010. But for me... it went like this:

"I clearly see the 0... is the first number an 8? It looks like an 8 but it kinda looks like it could be a weird 5...or an S? That makes no sense. That third number looks like a 4... is that last number a 0 or 9?"

I kept getting it wrong. I tried entering all sorts of combinations and even flipping the number order. I couldn't get it, the numbers were too hard for me to make out. I don't know if that was intentional or not, but I had to look it up.

I'm not even sure if the puzzle was necessary to get the true ending. It just led to some extra scene and dialogue.

Horror

This game feels like a light-horror.

It provides a creepy atmosphere which brought to mind The Witches House while I played it, but the music itself isn't scary, even when it stops and switches to general ambience. It overall made me feel lonely, not scared or on edge.

The blood and gore is there (at times liberally), but it never came off as being "too much/forced/shoe-horned in for the sake of a cheap scare". The game doesn't even load with a warning screen like some of the others do, nor were there anyway noisy, in-your-face jump scares.

There were things that startled me because they were unexpected, but I never felt scared playing this.

What I disliked

There was very few things I disliked about this game, but I believe that these are smaller issues based on my own thought process that won't interfere with everyone's experience.

One being the mini-games I mentioned. All 3 are themed around controlling Toru a certain way until you beat it. But each one plays differently. They were short and sweet and didn't overstay their welcome, which I like.

My problem with them is that the game doesn't necessarily tell you what to do. You're thrown into a mini-game and you got seconds to figure it out before you get killed and have to restart. There is a little bit of vague text around each game, but I couldn't tell what they wanted from me without some trial-and-error.

What negates the issue with this, as I mentioned is that the game offers to help you. I had to have the game beat the 2nd one for me because I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. I understood what to do after watching the game do it for me, but it too me 3 and 1/2 play-throughs of this game to finally beat it.

The only other thing I felt worth mentioning was the Kori interaction sections. You have to keep watching and talking to her until you can move on. You can't do certain things until she's in a specific spot/room, and the only way you would know this is if you just happen to see her do something, or opened the "cursed cat food".

This isn't really a big deal, I like talking to NPC in games so I tend to talk to everyone multiple times out of habit now. But it did get me stuck when I first played the game because I didn't realize it was a necessity- and I know there are people who don't care much for chatting up NPCs or playing the waiting game. These areas didn't last long though, which kept it from being a chore.

Oh, there was also the "developers room" after you beat the game. I love learning about unique trivia related to the game or what the makers of it went through. But here it felt kind of pointless. There wasn't anything to really look at, and you only learn one or two things.

What I liked

The art style! It's so cute and there are a lot of pretty scenes. This game has a lot of unique elements to it, it doesn't feel like the older rpgmaker games that featured generic text boxes and images, character rpg stats, etc (not that I'm saying those are bad). From head-to-toe, they fully embraced making this game as cute as could be!

Another thing I liked about the game is that the rooms are all unique and look really nice. They feel like they should be there. They aren't empty or pointless, nearly every room serves a purpose.

One of my favorite things is taking the time to backtrack to past areas. Some of them have trivial changes (or added death scenes), or feature additional content you may not have seen the first time. For example, here's one room during my first visit:

This is the same room after I returned a while later, notice the paintbrush on the floor and tilted picture (the one canvas gets knocked over too, but I came back too early for that when I was getting the picture). There is also a death you can trigger, but if you possess a specific item, you can avoid it.

There are also some extra cutscenes/dialogue you can find by observing certain things repeatedly. Playing as Kori also changes certain events, as does having her in the room with you when you observe certain things as Toru. There are a few items both girls can obtain too, and they have different dialogue for it. You can even skip one puzzle entirely by activating a hidden room you can find if you backtrack to a specific spot.

I love these additional elements x3 they show that the game has more depth to it than what's on the surface. Its beneficial to seek these things out because they offer more insight to the plot and characters.

Ending

In terms of endings, there are 4. The true ending, the normal ending, and 2 bad endings. According to Steam, the 2nd bad ending is the least obtained one, while the True Ending was the second least. But honestly, I got the true ending on my first playthrough. I'm not good at these games (I got the Platinum ending in Pocket Mirror), so I'm convinced it was just dumb luck that I happened to do the right things.

I replayed the game twice more to knowingly make the wrong decisions to get the 2nd bad and Normal endings. The 1st bad ending is the one everyone probably sees at least once, because it occurs earlier in the game and it's more like an extended death scene. You aren't locked out of getting the other endings or finishing the game if you trigger it. On top of that, I think you're required to go into the room it occurs (under certain conditions) to reach the True Ending.

I want to avoid saying anything too spoilery, so I didn't want to exactly go over everything to get said endings. But I liked each one, they gave good exposition to the overall plot and felt like they made sense.

Other Stuff

The length of the game on average is probably a couple of hours. Even when I replayed it knowing what to do, where to take shortcuts, it still took me around the same length of time.

There are 7 achievements in total for the game. 4 are in the base game, while the other 3 (one of which is a hidden achievement) is in the DLC story.

You probably noticed it in the very first image, but there is separate, purchasable DLC for this game! It's an after-story that offers more insight to the story, 2 more endings and some alternative gameplay.

I don't have it yet, because while I did buy this game a year or so ago, I only just recently replayed and beat the entire thing. I do plan on buying it though, and I'll probably make a separate post on it.

Conclusion

I really, really like this game. The art makes it a pleasing experience to the eye while the characters and mystery of the plot encourage you to keep guiding Toru to the end to find out what's going on. It's a fun and forgiving game, perfect for people who want a more relaxed, horror rpgmaker experience. I think it'd be a good choice for someone whose new to these types of games and wants to build their way up to the scarier/harder/more intense ones.

The more I played this game, the more it reminded me a lot of The Witches House. Numerous things made me think about it, like the room match puzzle, and how Toru's menu image changed after I triggered a specific death (I thought THAT was the cat food curse, until I realized why I couldn't progress at that specific part). This game is newer, so it might have taken inspiration from that one. I know a lot of rpgmaker games draw comparisons and influence in other ones.

I'm really glad I gave this game a chance, especially because I didn't know what to expect going in. I love a lot about it and even the things that I didn't like never made me want to quit playing. It's also very cheap, as is the DLC. You can even buy them in a bundle.

It is lacking in polish, but I'm willing to overlook it when the game itself plays very well and I enjoyed the experience.

Um.... thanks for listening to me ramble for a while. I hope if anything this review encourages you to check it out, here's a link to the Steam page if you're interested.

I'd love to do more of these, and I do have an idea for my next 2 reviews, but if you have any sort of recommendations for a cute game, or even rpgmaker games, feel free to let me know.

Until next time~

#cutie reviews #review #nyakori's rabbit doll #rpg maker horror

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quinloki · 1 year

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Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 7: Imagination

"He seemed completely determined to not once be in the house with me by himself." You muse, handing Zoro a beer and sitting in the recliner.

"I told him about the time the jack failed in Eustass' shop and you lifted the car off Wire." Zoro says. "I think he's worried you'd break him in half. He's a good guy, but he's skittish."

"Still," You muse putting your own drink to your lips and taking a gulp. "I can't imagine people being afraid of me. I barely clear 60 inches, Eustass calls me mouse, for fuck's sake."

"(Y/N)." Zoro is giving you a look.

"Besides, Eustass only calls you Mouse because he's half a mountain on his own."

You almost choke. "Yeah, I used to think the only person who had more presence was Pops, but Zoro if you ever get to meet this Donquixote guy, he makes Eustass look short."

Zoro raises an eyebrow. "Gonna let someone new in?"

"Eh." You shrug and take another drink, a ring of the doorbell gets your attention and you set your drink down and go to answer the door. "I suppose it has been a long time."

A young man with blonde hair in bike shorts, a tight t-shirt, and heels is standing on the porch with a suitcase. You tilt your head at him in confusion and he smiles.

"Young master said to deliver this package to you, Miss (Y/N)." He states cheerfully.

"Oh! Oh, right. Yeah, thank you, uh?"

"Dellinger, Miss (Y/N)."

"Dellinger." You smile. "Killer heels, kid, sweet outfit too."

Zoro raises an eyebrow after you close the door.

"Clothes?" You mutter, holding up a pair of new comfy looking sweatpants. "I guess tomorrow has a dress code, and he wanted to be sure I could comply. Ah, a letter."

Miss (Y/N),

I was unsure if your recent uninvited guests had damaged anything you may need for our time together tomorrow, so please forgive me for ensuring you would have the items required.

Zoro lets out a low whistle.

"Right?" You agree. "Man's got taste, I'll admit." You carefully return it to the suitcase. "I'm not even going to be surprised if this all fits like a glove either."

"It's not at all unsettling?"

Zoro grunts, and you assume he's agreeing with your point.

Zoro doesn't say anything, but you catch the smirk he tries to hide behind his drink.

"Shut up." You quip.

"I didn't say anything."

Zoro was quiet for a moment. "When's the last time you talked to him?"

"It's still been fifteen years." You admit. "If he even knows I'm alive, I'd be surprised."

"You're not worried about this 'Mingo guy sorting out who he is?"

"Besides, Pops and the boys are better family, even if it's all unofficial."

Typing in the "Unknown Caller" number that had appeared last night you sent a text.

(Y/N): I commend your taste in attire, and graciously accept your altruism.

You save his number into your contact under 'Trouble' and get a reply shortly after.

Trouble: I am hardly altruistic.

Chuckling, you notice more coming in, so you give him a moment to continue.

Trouble: If I were truly altruistic, I would've accepted your desire that I leave your debt unpaid.

(Y/N): Ah, so tomorrow is for your own selfishness as well?

Trouble: Indeed, though I believe you will enjoy it.

(Y/N): Not much of a payment if there's that much pleasure for you.

You wanted to hear him stammer or see his jaw go slack just once. Maybe twice.

Trouble: Then I will simply have to try harder after tomorrow to see you repaid properly.

Okay, one drink on an empty stomach might have been too much, because you could feel yourself sober up at the implication of his text. It took you longer to form a reply than you had liked.

(Y/N): Proper repayment would've been no repayment. Tomorrow is the compromise.

Even your own mind is betraying you.

#Family Ties #donquixote doflamingo #doffy x reader #doffy one piece #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #modern mafia au #reader insert #doflamingo x reader

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nancypullen · 2 years

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Monday, Monday

Oh, I can’t wait for the day when Monday no longer means Mickey dragging down the hallway to sit in front of a screen all day. He’s good at his job, and most days he actually enjoys it (that might be stretching the truth a bit), but he’s a little over a year from retirement and the grind is getting to him. I bite my tongue and do not point out that he doesn’t fight traffic, he doesn’t even have to put pants on if he doesn’t feel like it, and his lovely assistant provides a delicious and nutritious lunch every day. He’s got it better than a lot of people, but no one wants to hear that when you’ve worked since your teens and you’re ready to relax and reap the benefits of all that hard work. In other words, Mondays around here are still a bummer. I try not to be too chipper and I made Monday my bathroom cleaning and laundry day just so I can suffer a little in sympathy. I probably have a better time cleaning toilets than he does at his desk. In other news, it was raining Etsy boxes at my house today.

I’ve used all but about three dollars of my gift certificates and I think I chose wisely. Garden stuff, hobby stuff, a little jewelry, and this little mouse came all the way from the UK.

Now she’s here to keep my art room tidy. Anyone recognize her? That’s Hunca Munca from Beatrix Potter’s A Tale of Two Bad Mice. She and her husband, Tom Thumb, left their mousehole because the temptation of a dollhouse was just too much. Once inside the dollhouse they were so disappointed that all of the delicious-looking food was fake that they made quite a mess. SHe felt awful about it and now very early every morning Hunca Munca tidies the dollhouse before anyone wakes. I’m hoping she’ll do the same around here. If not, at least she makes me smile.

And in the name of tidying up, I’ve been trying to make the most of the pantry space and get it organized. This was the vision I had...

Yeahhhh, I don’t have that kind of pantry.

I have a long way to go, but I’ve labeled areas so I can start placing similar items in groups and eventually I’ll have lots of pretty baskets ad labeled containers. But for right now it looks like this.

That’s just one corner. I also have sections for table linens, small appliances, baking stuff, and so on. It’s not pretty yet, but it’s functional. Even though it’s not pretty, I have to admit that I love opening the doors and seeing Ina Garten smiling at me.

Right now I’m really wishing I’d painted the walls behind those ugly metal shelves. You know darn well I’d paint them a soft, pale pink and make it all girly. Great, now I’m thinking pink and you know once I get it in my head....Mickey will hate hearing this idea. I’d also love to replace those wire/metal shelves with some dark stained wood. Bet he’ll fight me on that. You all already know I’m going to have a pink pantry with dark shelves, right? Anywayyyy, big weekend coming up. The Edgewaters are escaping for a romantic weekend and that means that Little Miss is staying with us. I’m brainstorming some fun stuff for us to do, but entertainment will not be a problem - my sister is driving over on Saturday morning! She’s down from Maine for the winter and she wants to pop in and see us. Actually, she wants to giggle with the grandgirl and I think it will be a hoot to see that her Grancy has a sister. I’ll tell her we’re like Elsa and Anna except very, very old. I’m sure the three of us can stir up some fun.

That said, here’s my quandary. The Miss Universe pageant is Saturday night. You know how I am about that particular event. I’ve been doing my research, getting glimpses of national costumes, hoping for a peek at evening gowns. I’m excited. So, do I turn it on and let the grandgirl stay up past her bedtime to see princesses from around the world? If I do that, there will be running commentary. Also, her parents may not want her watching a pageant. Do I record it and watch it Monday night after we return her to her rightful owners? I’d have to be very careful not to watch or read any news that might spoil it. Does this seem frivolous - yes, of course. Would I give up pageants forever for weekends with her? Absolutely. But this is my Super Bowl and I enjoy the heck out of it. I’m thinking I’ll play it safe and watch it on Monday. I really don’t need her telling her parents that she stayed up and watched a show where women walked around in swimsuits in exchange for a big diamond crown. Mmmkay, I think I’ll head upstairs and take a bubble bath. The mister is watching the Georgia-Texas game, apparently this is a big one. If I go take a bath now I can stay upstairs and turn that tv to murder. Either that or I can browse pink paint samples for the pantry. Mickey will probably consider that a crime. Hope you’ve had a pleasant Monday. If not, then I’m glad it’s over. May the rest of your week be surprisingly fun. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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writeroffline · 2 years

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Open ps2 loader usb 4gb

I actually had to source a guide online for control usage, and found a good one on Ground Zeroes that mostly works, except they changed CQC commands from arrow keys to number keys. The only caveat is Japanese developers are very console (cough, SONY) centric, so even if you do get good actual KB/M performance, there are still little quirks, like inadequate control explanation in the controls menu, mapping diagrams that only serve gamepad users, and even gamepad prompts showing onscreen instead of KB/M ones. I find that analog sticks are horribly inadequate for aiming, which is why a lot of games, even shooters like CoD Black Ops III, still have auto target for them. I still need to figure out the hitbox for helmeted headshots, though. It's not been perfect and half the time it's killed my stealth runs, but thankfully the game is tolerant of this and I've just gotten past Traitor's Caravan (with a lot of Side Ops grinding involved to make the GMP needed for beating it). There's definitely that complaint I have alongside others that movement is way too imprecise on keyboard (especially for this kind of stealth game) and that aiming is rather imprecise on gamepads as well, so I've been playing about 50 or so hours on gamepads to try and learn how to overcompensate with FPS thumbstick aiming which compared to all the other problems is usually the bane of my existence. There was a time when I would play third-person shooters with KBM like GTA IV but those times effectively died once I got a gamepad that the games were originally designed for, with mainly the exception of certain GTA Online missions where KBM accuracy's vital to pulling off a timing-sensitive assault. Swap out the PS4 controller for a wired 360 controller and you've got my general attitude on it. Played this mostly with a PS4 controller. Too bad the game won't allow for using controller+mouse at the same time and also does not support remapping of the controller binds, would actually love to try that combination.įor some reason, I like kb&m for 1st person games, but prefer controller for 3rd person games. I do miss the accuracy of using the mouse tho, aiming with the sticks never felt natural to me and having to depend so much on auto-aim (there's even weapon mods for increasing it) feels kinda cheap. There is a separate keybind for "slow walk"? I didn't even notice that, tho i didn't play around that much with kb&m because the lack of analog movement just felt too weird for an MGS game. As for the movement, I mapped sprint to shift, crouch to ctrl, slow walk to spacebar, and dive to alt, and never had a problem sneaking up behind people, even without the sneaking suit. With a mouse I can turn 180 with near equal speed and effort as I can line up headshots, no bullet time or auto aim required. How anyone could characterize analog sticks as even remotely "precise" blows me away. Trying to aim a gun quickly and accurately with a controller is fucking maddening. Trackpad tech isn't as precise as it needs to be. From what I've heard of that thing though, it doesn't sound very impressive. I am kind of desperately hoping the Steam controller fixes this problem by offering the precision of both mouse aiming and controller movement. Someone needs to make a mod that does that for MGS V. I think that is brilliant and I have no idea why any stealth game wouldn't do that on PC. I mentioned this on the Steam forums and someone who agreed mentioned that the Splinter Cell games would map the mouse wheel to movement speed. I love the precision of movement I can get with the analog stick. Sneaking suit dampens the sound of footsteps but it's not perfect.

Holding ctrl makes me move too slow, it's impossible to sneak behind anyone unless they are standing still because they walk faster than me. I move too quickly and they hear my footsteps. I really wanted to play with K+M because aiming is so much more accurate.īut the movement controls! GAH! It's terrible on a keyboard.

#Open ps2 loader usb 4gb

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can-you-let-me-take-a-nap · 2 years

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Flower Amongst The Waves | ༄

♡ 。Childe x Reader x Yelan

Warnings: Dub-con, spanking, bondage, interrogation, degrading, praise, good cop bad cop, reader is Traveller, gender-neutral reader, they/them, mentions of blindfolding, mentions of lingerie, mentions of other characters, name calling (reader is called a slut),reader is caught in 4k (both literally and figuratively as the word count is 4k)

.｡..｡.:*･Venom, you say? But I think you’re the one intoxicating me…･*:.｡. .｡.:

Cool metal envelops your wrists, cool as the lakes in Mount Aocang. It acts as a source of relief from the harrowing heat of adrenaline engulfing your body. The handcuffs force your hands above your head and chains dangle from the ceiling. The room is void of light and no matter how much you try to let escape the tiniest bit of elemental energy, not even a hushed grumble of geo, a faint whisper of ameno, nor a confined crackle of electro escape any part of your being. You note that the ground and the room have been heated very slightly, warming your legs sprawled in a disorganised fashion. An anomaly. This room void of light, proper windows and people, is a room intended for torture. You’d know, the Kujou Commission’s domain making sure to teach you this very lesson as you and Yoimiya went off to fight the Fatui.

Wait, the Fatui..?

You spot the crimson insignia imprinted on the door handle, looking awfully like an empty gun barrel, through the sliver of azure tinted moonlight that creeps through the barred windows, blacked out by wiring. Although the blazing torment of humiliation licks at you, hope swells in your chest knowing that Tartaglia will free you from this unfortunate predicament.

Speak of the devil.

A rattle of a doorknob. The creak of a jail cell. The gentle jingle of an earring against fabric. The clacking of a pair of heels.

No, two pairs of heels.

In your vision, swims not one, but two figures. A flick of a switch and the room is dimly lit, and you allow your eyes to fixate on the bodies looming over your own.

“Comrade, I must say I’m thoroughly disappointed.” A saccharine voice matches an equally saccharine grin, “Stealing from Northland Bank and caught red-handed just a week later? I thought you fought a god?”

What..?

“N-no, Tartaglia, you’ve got the wrong person. It really wasn’t me. I have no use for money, you know that! The Kamisato Clan paid me favourably, and Beidou gave me a share of the loot we got to keep when defeating treasure hoarders by the coasts of Inazuma. I still have most of the money you gave me when Teucer snuck into Liyue!”

Cool yet wild blue eyes look you up and down, and your ears heat up as you look up at him from your knees. Your gaze flickers to the side of the room to remedy the sheer embarrassment of his unhinged gaze, yet you are met with feline eyes, the iridescent hue like the depths of a tropical sea. They glow in the dark briefly and buzz with an emotion that you can’t put your finger on.

“Miss, do you think we ought to deal with the Traveller?” The redhead’s voice is tinted with a sense of playful sadism as his gaze burns you even further.

The woman in question has a catlike grin blooming on her face as an idea visibly pops into her head. Her pinky-purple lips glisten in the light. “I have heard how Fatui deals with liars, though I’m sure this one is luckier than the others.” The harsh fragrance of leather and a hint of orchid wafts around you as she inspects your petrified visage, her predatory expression tells you that you are the mouse to this catlike woman: “I believe that this one should leave alive, yet not unscathed.”

A gentle yet dangerous chuckle echoes in the prison cell, “Don’t look like that, Traveller. We won’t kill you, but we will enjoy the thrill of finally hunting you down.” The words he utters are laced with an emotion heavier, muskier than bloodlust. You’ve fought and sparred with him many times, you know what he sounds like when he wants to fight. You know that he doesn’t want a duel. His words usually become more slurred and his eyes less focused, but now his voice is both teasing and as gentle as a chime of an ornament and it rivals the glazed over yet evermore intent expression on his face. “You thought we wouldn’t notice? Kameras aren’t just used for pretty pictures, they monitor the vaults and pictures are taken every thirty seconds, just to catch you in the act. Well, I would say that this image is quite pretty, seeing as you’re in it.” The eleventh Harbinger waves a piece of paper in front of your face, and a figure that looks much like yourself captures the moment of gloved hands gripping the vault handles, the metal door already half-open.

“That’s… That’s not me..! Well, it looks like me, but I swear I wasn’t even in Liyue last week, I arrived three days ago. You can ask Beid-“ You pause, knowing that you teleported on the way back instead of taking the ship due to the many stops before you went back that would waste your time.

“The Captain who is halfway to Mondstadt? Oh dear, it seems you don’t have an alibi after all.” The woman’s voice is mature, smooth and refined like red wine; a stark contrast to Tartaglia’s. Her expression is unreadable, but her half-lidded eyes suggest she is going to enjoy whatever she has in store for you. Her breath licks your face, and she whispers into your ear as a leathered finger brushes your hair behind your ear. “I am an investigator sent from the Liyue Qixing. The name’s Yelan, keep that in mind because you’ll be screaming it a lot tonight.” The waves that once grazed your feet produce a huge wave that lifts your body into the sea: this emotion you couldn’t grasp, the meaning of the gazes that simply washed away and slipped through your fingers as you tried to understand them: it was lust.

You curl into yourself a little more, cowering from Yelan who now joins you on the floor, but the Harbinger’s long fingers supporting your back from behind keep you in place. The room heats up even more and you wish that it was the temperature of Dragonspine now. “I promise I’m not the thief, you know that I helped rebuild the Jade Chamber, that Lady Ningguang would help me if I needed anything! Even… Even you would, right?” Your voice is no longer confused, but you squirm very slightly as Childe trails a finger up your ankle.

“Of course, outlander. I am always here to defend you, which is precisely why you’re going to leave with all of your limbs intact. I call it a bargain, comrade.” His hands travel to your waist and you try to wriggle. The pair chuckle as you try to escape from them.

“These chains are manufactured for interrogations, you know? You can’t escape them, Traveller. You’re welcome to keep squirming, though, it’s fun to watch you struggle.” The woman digs her fingers into your chin when you look away from her. “Has no one taught you any manners? First you steal, now you won’t look at me when you’re speaking? Dirty brat.” Her refined drawl turns into a growl at the last two words, and she yanks your hair to keep you in check. The sharp burning in your scalp makes you hiss in pain and the gloved finger from behind you traces a line from the back of your neck to the small of your back neutralise the hot sensation with its cool touch. Tears from the pain dot the rim of your eyes and gleam on your lashes like diamonds, and you can practically hear the sneer the young woman wears on her elegant face. “No alibi, photographic evidence, and obvious trails of geo and ameno in one set of footprints. What say you, outlander?”

“I say nothing. No offense Miss Yelan, but I’m really innocent! On the day of the robbery, I was visiting the Grand Narukami Shrine, please, if I could allow you to-“ You are interrupted by the sound of a zip and the ruffling of clothes, silk slips down your legs, along with your underwear in one graceful swoop. “Childe-!” You squeak and try to use your legs to hide yourself. The pair switch places and now you have Yelan tracing circular patterns on your bare back and Tartaglia brushing stray hair out of your face. His pink lips are pursed and freckles dot his cheeks, bold and pretty like the stars in the night sky. His dark lashes flutter at the view of your bare form.

“You call me Ajax here, comrade. Although I have been called “Master” by the many poor souls who have found themselves within the cells underneath Northland Bank, I can make an exception for you.” You shake your head and try to kick your legs as Yelan unfurls your legs and your behind is lifted from your heels. Her hand is splayed on your stomach, the pads of her fingers rough. “Now, comrade, why was Paimon here, and not yourself five nights ago?” His arms wrap around you in a manner akin to an embrace, but the man has your chin propped over his shoulder. His right hand laces through your hair to soothe the remnants of the sting and another rubs circles on expanse of skin on your bottom.

You feel so hot, even though the lack of clothing should make you colder, the blazing lust that radiates the bodies surrounding you have blanketed your body in its searing warmth. “Paimon-“ You start, and you jolt as Yelan squeezes your supple flesh behind you. Childe kisses a spot underneath your ear to soothe you. “Paimon was recovering from the Electro overstimulation when we faced off against the Mikoto-“ A sharp slap to your ass from Yelan prevents you from speaking, you bury your face in Tartaglia’s shoulder as you quiver from the reeling shock. “Why? Miss Yelan, I really am telling the truth!” Childe hushes you and Yelan takes her hand off the skin, likely light red from impact. You naively misunderstand this silence as a signal of her reconsideration of her actions, but another harsh spank to your other side which causes a tear to escape your eye proves you very wrong.

Yelan digs her nails into the flesh she struck just a moment ago and you slump over the Harbinger’s strong frame, who starts to coo at your pitiful state. “Poor thing, already trembling and it’s only been a few minutes. You can’t be this fragile in the face of danger, right? Or is that strong stance just a mask for your weak self, like thorns adorning a rose? Such a pretty rose, I must add, however.”

“Pathetic. I want you to tell me exactly what you were doing at the shrine.” Yelan’s tone is condescending, as if she is explaining how to carry out a simple task such as pouring a glass of water. To this, you twitch very slightly. The Kamisato Clan may have supplied you a lot of money, on the condition that you help the head of the household, Ayato, settle the score with Lady Yae, Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, by allowing yourself to… indulge in some risque adventures with him, very close to the premises but not close enough so that Lady Yae Miko could kick you two out but could only watch or listen as he ravaged you. “I-“

“You..?” Yelan urges you on, lightly smacking your thigh, and she scoffs as she finds a hickey Ayato leaves on the underside of the skin. “What a slut, the “heroic outlander” seems to have been taken by someone else too.” You don’t want to tell her that you’ve also been “taken” or nearly “taken” by the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, the Darknight Hero, the Chief Alchemist, the Geo Archon, the Tianqian of the Liyue Qixing, the Captain of the Crux fleet, the wandering samurai from Inazuma and the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan. (Guuji Yae is awaiting your return to Inazuma too, perhaps waiting for the opportunity to dress you in the finest of silks only to rip them apart and watch you scream for her in the bushes next to the Kamisato Household, strategically placed next to the room in which Kamisato Ayato files his paperwork.)

“I…” You try to continue but your voice wavers and knees buckle when Yelan’s hand travels from your stomach to flick at your nipple.

“I thought that the Hero of Mondstadt, Saviour of Liyue and the Miracle of Inazuma would be a beacon of innocence and purity, but here you are, throwing your pathetic self at anyone you set eyes on.” She accentuates the adjective of your supposed reputation with a harsh spank.

“I-I’m sorry, Yelan!” You sniff behind the glazed wall of tears that fill your eyes from how humiliating the position you’re in is, both literally and figuratively. The pain of her words and hand only enhance the shameful heat blooming in your lower stomach, threatening to make its presence known in liquid form.

“Aww, poor darling.” Childe gently brings your face towards his own and wipes away the tears on your bottom lash line. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and your fingertips above your head, a predatory expression graces his visage. “Miss Yelan, you can’t be too rough with the Saviour of Liyue, they might not be pure or innocent, but neither are we. And anyways, the Traveller is too stupid to understand how much power their secret partners have over them. They’re too naive and are probably all fucked out from a single kiss to understand what’s going on. I’m sorry, angel, but I’m very right, aren’t I?” One look into his cerulean blue eyes, the colour vibrant under the moonlight, makes you realise he is not sorry in the slightest. This faux pity only makes you melt and you try to avert your gaze because the heat is simply too much.

“I think we need to loosen that mouth of yours in order to get the truth out of you, thoughts, Harbinger?” Her cold voice clashes against the hot lilt in Tartaglia’s voice. Both degrade you in different manners: Childe with his tantalizing and cooing, which makes you feel small and helpless, and Yelan with her name calling and severe reprimands.

“I agree.” He props you back to his original position after unbuckling his belt and handing it to the dark haired lady.

“Count for me, stupid slut.” And seven consecutive whips on your ass and upper thighs leave you trembling and squealing. “You can barely get your words out, stop muttering.” And she uses her hand to spank you for an eighth time, and you count properly. To your relief, a “nine” on the tip of your tongue turns into an “eight” on reflex.

“You’re doing so well for us Traveller. If you just tell us what you were doing at the shrine, we won’t be mad. I’m sure your pretty little head can’t think of any ways to escape this place, so speak up and we’ll be very gentle~” He hums, but you know very well the last time he promised to be “gentle” he nearly killed you. Literally.

“I… Well…” You tremble like a leaf at the thought of the wrath of this unlikely alliance. If Lady Yae were to find you, would she find you in one piece?

As if she reads your thoughts, she leans over your body and whispers into your ear, “We can always contact the Shrine Maiden, Ganyu writes to her regularly, see what she says. I hear she’s got an excellent memory.”

“No! No need! Really!” You blurt out and Tartaglia’s fingers stop petting your head and instead rub the small of your back.

“I’ve found bite marks on the Outlander’s thighs, some rabid fox has chewed you up. I wonder if that’s how you got the money from that rich Inazuman family. Why not indulge us, slut?” Yelan registers the fact that Ajax is extremely possessive, and she plays her cards flawlessly.

Before you could explain yourself through small whispers and squeaks, Childe cups your cheeks with both of his hands and you can look nowhere except the eyes that were once friendly wash away and darken visibly. Cobalt blue meets teary doe eyes, and he scoffs.

“Of all the people, that asshole? I would rather you go make out with his little sister, but him? He killed many Fatui. You are in huge trouble, comrade, and this is me done playing nice.”

And so the tides turn.

Instead of being on either side of you, Yelan is fully in front of your trembling form and Childe is directly behind. You know he’s getting an eyeful of the red marks on your derriere and hear the little laugh he gives as he slots his left thigh in between your own exposed ones. Yelan’s hands grip your hips and force your crotch to come in contact with the taller man’s muscled thighs, a sweet smile graces her face: “Honey, it’s alright to tell us exactly what he did to you.” Her hands leave your hips and a hydro dice forms with a flick of her fingers. “If I roll an even number, you’re going to get overstimulated, and if I roll an odd number, it’ll be a miracle if you get to cum at all.” She laughs as the dice rolls across the floor.

“I prefer overstimulation: it makes the prisoner more vulnerable and twitchy. Plus, I think that sensitive bodies are easier to take control of, especially when they can barely take anymore.” Childe states, flexing his thigh to prove a point. You, of course, feel this minor action right where it’s the most sensitive. The waves are already growing in size, the pit of your stomach bubbles with anticipation and arousal.

“Well, we’re in a dilemma because I’ve rolled a three,” the opaque blue dice disintegrates into water droplets and the young lady places her hands on your hips again, forcing them to grind on the grey pants underneath. The friction makes you whimper under your breath but the ever so observant Yelan is hot on your trail. “Feel good, love? You want more?” You nod dumbly in reply. “I see. Then tell us, did Lord Kamisato tie you up like this? Hmm? Make you look pretty and presentable?” You nod affirmatively, Ayato used the ribbon from his outfit and a few shawls from the nearby boutique to make you more helpless as a punishment for not being loud enough for Yae to hear, he even blindfolded you to make sure that you wouldn’t be disobedient.

Tartaglia pinches both of your nipples, his breath hot and filled with fury as he jostles you on his thigh. Yelan continues to question you and control your hip movements at the same time. “My goodness me, you poor thing. Though I would do the same, I hear Inazumans like to tie their partners up with a very intricate pattern in mind.” Shibari. Kazuha had definitely made sure you knew that after a long night of drinking sake, he was gentle and loving, yet almost just as dangerous as the two fellows you’re with now. “Did this Kamisato mark you elsewhere? Any healed bruises?”

You’re too busy moaning quietly and hiccuping back tears to verbally reply, so you tilt your head to reveal a bite mark on the junction between your collarbone and neck. Yelan’s eyes once again flash blue, and she peers over you to look at Childe. “Harbinger, let’s make a bet.”

“Alright.”

“If we make the Traveller cum in five minutes, this little mess can take it until they pass out. If not, they aren’t allowed to for the rest of the night.” Ningguang hadn’t allowed you cum a few times and it hurt oh so very much, but you knew that overstimulation wasn't any better through Thoma, sweet and angelic Thoma, got so over excited that he didn’t even realise he had made you orgasm three times in the span of twenty minutes.

“Accepted!” Tartaglia snickers in glee as his knees start to bounce you up and down whilst Yelan moves you back and forth like a ragdoll. Oh how the waves crash and throw you around, how they taunt you and bully you into submission.

“No, no please!” You gasp as Childe nibbles on the hickey Ayato left on you. Surely they wouldn’t do something so cruel and heartless? Surely, surely, they wouldn’t be so mean to you. Even Kaeya, who promised to leave you high and dry if you made too much noise in the Acting Grandmaster’s office, caved in and gave you what you needed. If Captain Kaeya can be merciful, then surely your two captors could do the same.

Oh how wrong you are.

“You need saving, honey? Perhaps Mr. Zhongli can come in, he’s certainly a heroic man. A refined gentleman. However I hear he demands perfect obedience in bed, perhaps you’d know, Traveller?” Her voice is too sweet, too sugarcoated, just like honey. And you, stuck in this pool of honey, can barely move as the thick substance slows your movements and time all in one go. How does she read you? How does she piece together such facts from fine fragments?

“Xiangsheng too? Who haven’t you fallen in the trap of? Next time we meet in the Liuli Pavilion, I’ll make sure to exchange notes. You should tag along, I’m sure he’d love to hear how many people you’ve opened your legs for. I spotted him buying a nice whip from Ying’er a month ago. Maybe your ass was spared by us today but Mr. Zhongli will make sure you can no longer sit.” He bounces his thigh even faster, and you see Yelan’s eyes glint cruelly.

“Really, you poor bunny, you’re absolutely drenched! You just keep wanting more, don’t you?” She lifts your hips effortlessly, and laughs mockingly at the darker grey spot on the Harbinger’s pants. The waves gradually build up and are about to crash down to lead to your climax. Maybe it’s Yelan’s lipstick staining your lips and neck, or Ajax’s bite marks decorating your waist, neck and thighs like petals.

And being the avid mind reader that she is, Yelan catches on faster than a racing stream along the Liyue countryside. She knows that you’re close, so she makes you grind further down onto him, though her grip has considerably loosened because you started moving on your own, so drunk from pleasure that you mindlessly chase it and sacrifice your ego. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, and certainly not the last.

A sharp jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine, and you finally unravel. The waves lash into the sky and come crashing down onto the shoreline, the seafoam still there to mess with you.) Limp in your binds, a cry and sweet whispers of faux sympathy fill the jail cell along with ragged pants. The strong aroma of sex taints the room, and in the corner of your eye, you look at the photo of you robbing the bank once more. The tears of post orgasmic bliss clear away.

“You really came at exactly five minutes, what are we supposed to do with you?” Yelan wipes your tears away with the fluffy sleeve of the jacket draped around her shoulders and Tartaglia removes his thigh, grimacing and grinning at the same time.

“I say we go with overstim.”

“They’re my capture, Harbinger.”

“And this is my holding cell.”

The words blur in your head as the moon, higher in the sky, focuses on the date on the corner of the photo.

Five months before you headed to Liyue, when Childe let you take money from the banks. That’s why elemental traces of anemo and geo were left, you hadn’t even resonated with electro yet.

They framed you.

“B-but, the date…” is all you can say, words failing to form because your head is filled with honey and lust and want and greed, for more, just a slight touch or a sliver of attention from them, the strong and opposing waves that push and pull you apart, like a flower unfurling its petals. “The picture was ages ago… Not last week.”

Childe and Yelan both blink at you, amused.

“I told you, Miss Yelan, they’re not brain dead. Although they’re usually quite quick to catch on, I’m sure it’s because they’ve never dealt with two people before, it clouded their judgement.” You gape at them, the reality sinking in.

"Why..? Why did you?" You glare at Ajax defiantly, though you're not really mad, and they both know it. "What was your motive? I know you don't share."

He pouts, feigning innocence: "You know me, I nearly drowned Liyue so I'm working with Miss Yelan to rebuild my reputation in exchange for information on what the other Fatui are up to. She caught quite a big traitor, and myself a nice raise, so we decided to indulge in something. A reward, if you will. "

Yelan nods, a small smile on her face. "He told me tales of you and your adventures. I had to see you for myself, it's only an extra I got to really enjoy your moaning." You nod at her politely, arms still above your head.

"We're not done yet, comrade." Tartaglia's eyes soften as he approaches you, undoing his scarf with one hand and another resting on your pelvis. Something blossoms across the space and you can only gasp in awe as a riptide mark is applied, a light pulse to your groin every few seconds and a stronger pulse if he touches any part of you with infused hydro. "Let's have a rematch, since the last one was a tie."

"Yes, the night is still young, is it not?" You feel her palms spread your legs, the evidence of your orgasm still evident. Her grin turns into a scowl of impatience and her demeanour changes once more. The hand she runs through your hair curls into a fist and you yelp, helpless.

"We never did get you to tell us what you were doing at the Grand Narukami Shrine in full detail. Why not start with that? Get to it, slut." She slaps your cheek in a way that is not gentle or rough, with Ajax to kiss it all better.

Once again, the tides turn, and you, the flower amongst the waves, can only go with the flow…

#genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin childe #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin yelan #childe x reader #childe smut #yelan smut

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bibliocratic · 3 years

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litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

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sugaabooga · 4 years

Text

Aim and Shoot Your Shot

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: fluff, conartist!Taehyung, assassin!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: PG-13, mentions of blood, guns, death, scam artists, video games LOL (nothing to gorey or serious tho), some cursing, very inaccurate descriptions of assassins-ish/scam artist missions

Synopsis: It do be Valentine’s Day.

Gunshots fire. Bullets whizz past your cheek. The stench of fresh blood reaches your nostrils. And yet. As you walk through the blood pooling at your feet, you don’t flinch.

Your hand is steady, resting on the trigger and ready to turn the corner.

BAM.

A clean headshot is fired and you’re thrown back with spurts of blood shooting out your neck onto the dirt floor.

“Damn,” you mutter, roughly tossing your mouse aside at your 20th death.

“How the hell are you an assassin with a KDA of 6/20/3?” a voice snickers through your headphones as you lean back into your swivel chair and shut off the game client.

“Real life and games are different, I guess,” you shrug.

The line abruptly goes dead making you straighten up in your chair in confusion. “What?” you mutter, checking up on the headphone cords and pc wires.

“You gonna sit there all day?”

You whip around to see Taehyung, your group’s main conman, and your partner in crime. Literally.

“We got a call,” he says, tossing over your hat and mask and cooly walking out the door. You slip on your cap and mask, pulling on a black jacket over your all-black look, and shove on your white sneakers.

“You have got to teach me better aim,” you mutter as you hop into the passenger seat. Taehyung scoffs as he starts the van’s engine, driving towards the Kim family’s mansion where your team was stationed to take action at the shady networking party.

“Says the sniper,” he shakes his head.

You sigh. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just not the same.”

At the sudden silence, you glance at Taehyung’s side profile, never able to get used to his perfectly sculpted face as his eyes intently focus on the road before you.

“What’s the matter?” he suddenly asks, briefly meeting your eyes before turning right back onto the streets. You flinch at the unexpected interaction and shake your head.

“N-Nothing,” you hum. “Is… Eunji going in with you today?”

Taehyung nods. “She always does for these cocktail parties.”

“Right,” you mutter under your breath.

You don’t know what you have against Eunji. She had joined the team a month after you finished sniper training and attending the main missions.

She took on the role as a con woman alongside Taehyung, acting as his plus one at these types of rich people events you guys attended.

Despite their visual charisma when Eunji held onto Taehyung’s arm and they both flashed their blinding smiles, Taehyung had always worked with you the best through the mere earpieces. He was good at flattering others and extremely observant, using his quick wit to navigate the areas. You were good at keeping him in check, giving clear, specific orders, and watching his back.

The two of you had effective communication as he gave signals through your binoculars for you to make the first shot. After one specific instance where Taehyung had experienced massive injuries and laid right under one of the notorious gang members, you had sniped the guy right off of him and weirdly, things started to change between you and Taehyung. Your friendship grew stronger despite the field of work the two of you were in and you found the both of you often relying on each other.

But nevertheless, Eunji was good at acting just like Taehyung which automatically earned her the position as the main con artist and appear as the perfect wealthy young couple at parties and business affairs. You had been ignoring the green feeling you got every time you had to watch them through your binoculars but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Taehyung stifles a laugh, immediately catching your attention.

“Are you jealous?”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected question that makes your heart race in nervousness. “Why would I be jealous? Of who?”

Taehyung shrugs, an amusing smirk plastered onto his stupidly handsome face. Before you could retort, Taehyung stops the car towards the wooded area hidden from main traffic and hops into the back to change into his suit.

You snap out of your confusing emotions, reminding yourself that you were in on an important business deal with the infamous Kim family who believed Taehyung and Eunji was the Shin family from France.

You quickly retrieve your weapons and materials from the trunk and nag Taehyung to safely carry out the mission and not be rash like he often was. He responds with a mischievous smile and a flick to your forehead before heading towards the hacker, Kim Namjoon’s van to take note of any security obstacles and important individuals.

You quietly run through the back route that you had analyzed on the way here and make your way up to the building labeled Building B. You shove in your earpiece before setting up your equipment, keeping a sharp eye out for any suspicious movements around you. Dealing with the Kim family was always risky business.

“Testing. Cinnamon buns. Testing.”

You snort. “Wanna go on a cinnamon bun date with me, Yoongs?”

Yoongi, the other experienced sniper currently stands on the opposite building from you, setting up his own materials. He ignores your comment, as usual, and focuses on the main hall of the mansion.

“Honestly, I always thought you guys looked cute together,” another voice adds with a snicker that you join in on. It was always too fun teasing Yoongi.

“What!?” Taehyung nearly yells into your ear making you grimace at the sudden loudness.

“Taehyung. Please,” Yoongi grits. “And shut the hell up, Park. Make sure you don’t end up knocking out the wrong man.”

That had happened before.

“Is Taeji in?” Jungkook, the new recruit in charge of hand to hand combat, interrupts the mild banter through the earpiece.

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the combination of Taehyung’s and Eunji’s names that your dumb team members came up with and listen quietly to Yoongi’s confirmation of observing the main entrance.

“Jimin,” Yoongi suddenly interrupts the silence. You scan the ballroom and spot the man in question who was, as always, flirting with a random woman for absolutely no reason except shits and giggles. “You aren’t here to pick up a one-night stand.”

You let out a short laugh as you see Jimin tense up indicating his entire body’s suppression of rolling his eyes. He successfully maintains his signature eye smile in front of the bashful female bartender who slips him a napkin. Probably with a set of numbers written on them.

“Security system is officially down,” Namjoon informs. “Taeji, Y/N. Standby at target.”

You quickly get into position, peering through your gun at the tall glass windows on the side of the target room. Once you make sure it’s in place, you use your binoculars to keep a close watch on the surroundings. You sweep over Taehyung and Eunji’s positions as they converse with some of the guests at the ball.

“Kim Seokjin entered through the side entrance doors,” Yoongi reports.

“Naturally get out of the conversation,” Namjoon instructs. “Kim approaching ten o’ clock about 100 ft away.”

You watch Eunji tug on Taehyung’s arm and lean close to whisper something in his ear.

You roll your eyes. Was that really necessary to get out of the conversation? You knew Eunji harbored feelings for Taehyung and always made it a point to be extra touchy on missions where they were required to enter as a couple.

You sigh as Taehyung gazes down at her with his playful grin and wraps his arm around her, quietly saying their excuses to the guests and taking their leave to “coincidentally” bump into Seokjin.

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s quiet voice calls.

“Listening,” you murmur.

“Remember. Don’t shoot unless it’s a life or death situation.”

“Got it,” you assure him, remembering that one time you had accidentally pulled the trigger during a winning fight. Good thing you had missed it because that would’ve been an extremely difficult situation to clear up.

Namjoon instructs Taehyung and Eunji to lead Seokjin into the back room where the transaction was scheduled to take place.

“How is someone so evil so good looking,” you say once you get a proper look at the man’s visuals as he follows after Taehyung and Eunji without any suspicion.

Eh, Tae’s more of my type. You think.

Yoongi rolls his eyes when he sees Taehyung’s jaw tense at your words that had accidentally spoken through your earpieces.

“Make a move if you’re mad,” Yoongi snickers as you scoff believing it referred to you while Taehyung jolts in surprise.

After a flashing light signal, Taehyung naturally walks towards the windows, slowly drawing the blinds closed just in case any rival gangs or crews were also present on the scene. Namjoon and Yoongi were watching the room from their respective visible places while Jimin and Jungkook were getting ready for any surprise attacks a few meters from the door. You stay still in position, taking this time to stretch your limbs since you didn’t have a visible line of sight.

A few minutes pass in silence which was quite normal for these types of meetings. It’s only when these business transactions get gangs involved that things go haywire and blood is shed.

“Shit,” Taehyung’s familiar timbre voice comes in through your headpiece. You immediately grow tense as Jimin quickly asks about the condition of the situation.

“Transaction is complete,” Namjoon quickly clarifies. “I don’t know why Taehyung cursed. Yoongi and Y/N stay in your positions till the Kims completely exit. Taeji and Kook, hurry and head out into your vans. Jimin hang around for about twenty more minutes. Don’t end up in a motel tonight.”

Jimin giggles as he walks back out into the main ballroom. “I’ll try.”

“Geez Tae,” Jungkook sighs, walking out towards the back of the mansion. “I thought I had to bust in.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says, walking out through the back still in his suit and practically glowing. He fidgets with his watch and fiddles the knife stuck around his hip. “Did you guys realize it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

You turn away, putting your binoculars aside as Eunji suddenly perks up expectantly at Taehyung’s random inquiry.

“Y/N,” Taehyung calls with hesitance.

You sigh, kneeling at your gun and peering in through the scope just in case. “I’m here.”

Unfortunately.

“You free tomorrow?”

You pause, leaning back from the gun. Was he trying to make fun of your single ass?

You don’t realize that just twenty feet below you, Taehyung awkwardly paces around as Eunji squints her eyes and huffs away to her respective van.

“Tomorrow?” you ask in confusion. “You tryin’ to have a galentines or something because obviously I do not have any pla-”

“Dumbass. He’s asking you out for Valentine’s Day,” Jimin suddenly interrupts, immediately sending both Taehyung and your faces to flush red.

You gulp. “As in-”

“A date,” Taehyung finishes. He nervously peers up at the building you were standing on top of earlier. He’s able to spot your dark figure. You turn around, somehow meeting Taehyung’s eyes as the mansion’s lights illuminate where you both stand.

“This is nasty,” Jungkook mutters with a sigh, hopping into Namjoon’s van.

Ding.

“This isn’t what I meant by making a move,” Yoongi sighs, tossing aside his water bottle after taking a swig. “Public confessions are a thing now?”

You look away, digging into your back pocket for your vibrating phone.

Tae: Go out... with me.

You intake a sharp breath, looking down only to see Taehyung typing away.

“You’re just salty that you’re lonely,” Jimin hums back at Yoongi, entering the ballroom with a flirty grin directed at CEO Shin’s mistress.

Tae: I like you Y/N. Wanna be my valentine?

“Fuck you,” Yoongi deadpans.

You: :3 teach me how to aim?

Taehyung grins, looking back up to see you peer down at him from the ledge.

“FOREVER AND ALWAYS!” he yells with a boxy smile.

“We’re literally going to die,” Namjoon groans.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #bangtanidx #btsboulangerie #bts #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenario #bts scenario #taehyung fluff

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yandere-mha-blog · 3 years

Text

Chapter 35:Observation

words:1100

You were drying off your face and looked in the mirror no matter how hard you tried to push it down, you couldn't let go of the fact Katsuki had a bunch of red flags stuffed in his bag, they look worn so they weren’t new they had to be the ones that were the checkpoints to find the path.

Katsuki on the other hand was bouncing his foot up and down, how he could be so dumb, stuffing the red flags in his bag and not even zipping it, and just keeping it ont he floor, no if he tried to hide it, it would of been even worse to explain himself. So when you walked out with your hand clapped on your other arm he knew that you knew about the flags.

“Hey dumbdumb what's up?” Katsuki asked knowing full well

“Well katsuki...i tripped over your bag and i saw the checkpoints fall out.” you said, you looked down avoiding confrontation.

“Oh that, the old flags have been here so long and became so tattered I had to replace them.” Katsuki lied, oh how he hates lying to you, the one thing he never wanted to do.

“Oh I see.” you said seeing relief form on your face “You got those sweets for me right, I'm gonna have one now.”

“He is lying, he is lying.” you thought to your self, avoiding eye contact and saying oh that, no he was beating around the bush with that, normally he would of that those things were old as fuck so I replaced them, he was purposefully trying to make you feel better, something was up, he didn't bring anything with him to replace them, you ripped open the wrapper and took a bite out of the melon bun.

“Also Katsuki, how long are we staying here by the way?” you asked

“Hmm dunno a week.” he said

Again not like him, Katsuki would normally say seven days, to fourteen days, he lived by a schedule to a T, him being so lax about the time up here was even more suspicious now, maybe you were to trusting, but you weren't dumb when it came to people intent. What exactly is Katsuki planning, you couldn't just outright accuse him, that would not lead anywhere good. You will have to play it low for now, still you were hurt, the fact Katsuki just lied to you, even though he told you time and time again he would never lie to you, or he never lies.

“I see, well I'm gonna brush my teeth and head off the bed, what are you gonna be up to?” you asked

Now Katsuki was raising his eyebrow at you, I mean you believed him right, why were you asking him what he was gonna be up to, no he is just overthinking it, he is the most important person to you, you had shown and told him that time and time again.

“I'm just going to sit out on the deck and enjoy some peace and quiet.” he said

That is sounding more like him now.

“Okay have fun, put on bug spray.” you said and headed off to the room closing the door and waited, you saw Katsuki go outside, and you snuck out of the room, hey if he was lying to you you weren't gonna be so truthful to him now. You went around the area that Katsuki said he would clean and found a phone, you looked down at the wire and yup sure enough it had been cut, this wasn't the work of a mouse, the amount of times your father would cuss and shove a chewed up wire in your face as child was enough to know this wasn't the work of a mouse.

“What else is he hiding from me.” you thought as you pecked out, no sign of Katsuki you saw the back of his head from the other side of the window and went back into the room, something about the internet being down you checked around the area and there it was hidden behind a few boxes a router, it was very old looking so maybe he wasn't lying about that part.

You quickly stepped out and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water then walked outside.

“HI suki.” you said sitting next to him

“Thought you were going to sleep.” He said, wondering what was up with that nickname that you would use to annoy him.

“I couldn't sleep and I missed you.” you said snuggling into his side “Also happy birthday.” “Thanks dumbdumb.” he said patting your head “One thing I love about being outside is that you can see the actual sky at night.” “There sure are a lot of stars out.” you said “reminds me of my old house.”

“Really?” Katsuki said

“Yeah it was very very remote, sometimes I would sneak out and eat from the berry bushes we had in the back and just look up at the stars, usually when I didn't get dinner.”

“So you snuck out and ate the stock like some sort of rabbit?” Katsuki said

“Sure did.” you said taking a sip “Hate to dampen the mood but my father did not like that, said i was just eating his money, his money like he didn't have me and my brothers do all the work while he longed around on his lazy ass.”

“Wow did you just swear.” Katsuki laughed

“Sure did.” you said “Guess that's why i love to city more, still it's nice to be out here while.”

“Sure is.” Katsuki said, wrapping an arm around you.

“Sorry for the small manipulation Katsuki but you aren't acting like yourself lately.” you thought

“I can tell she is up to something, but what is it?” Katsuki thought

Katsuki could tell you were suspecting him of something, he heard you shuffling about in the background and go into the back room, if you asked him about the cut wire then he would just say a mouse got to it or something, also the fact he unplugged the router and just didn't put it back in, he was to busy and just forget about the fact he had Wi-Fi up here still, some hikers must of been using it or something, Katsuki knew that he couldn't just be brash and go in head first with this, he had to be subtle, but Katsuki was about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. You on the other hand knew people to well, he knew how well you were at reading people. That could pose an issue, why did you have to notice now just when things were going so well.

#yandere katsuki bakugo #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugou #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere

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itskateak · 4 years

Text

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Four

(Bucky Barnes X Single Dad!Reader)

Series Summary: Y/N L/N works as an intel specialist at the Avenger’s Compound. He scans chatter on the international - and intergalactic - level for any information that might be helpful to the Avengers and other agents. But he’s also a single father to a beautiful eight-year-old girl: Angelica L/N. It’s tough raising a little girl on his own and working a full-time job, but he’s managing. A promotion has him launched up in rank at the Compound, leading him to work directly with the Avengers team. The only problem is it’s a 24/7 job. Life around the compound gets a little strange when his daughter is added to the mix of enhanced humans and ex-assassins.

Chapter Summary: Rumors had always surrounded Bucky Barnes. A very early morning has Y/N thinking that every single one of them are wrong.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Meet-cute, fluff, unwanted romantic advances (again), minor language, Bucky being a little self-loathing

A/N: I wish y'all could've seen what happened in the middle of revising this - we got a 5.1 earthquake out of nowhere that jolted the house pretty good and in my rush to pick up my glass (and not move from the couch because screw that, I'm lazy and mother nature would have to throw me off the couch herself like that guy in the bathtub on Nov. 30th, 2018 - which, by the way, who is just soaking in the bathtub at 8:30 AM???), I slapped the keyboard. Oops. And then we got two more in the next two minutes.

Masterlist

Taglist is open! Drop a note in my messages, inbox, or leave a comment to be added!

If I can’t tag you, I will personally message you when a new chapter comes out so you don’t miss it!

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Y/N sank into his desk chair, sleep hanging at the corner of his eyes. He almost had hit his alarm and gone back to bed, but since Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were returning from a mission, he forced himself out of bed. They'd have information for him to add to the system that could be urgent. So, here he was, half-awake and booting up his computer.

He hadn't even had his caffeine this morning so his personality had yet to catch up. He was just a walking, mumbling shell of Y/N until his brain woke up entirely. That could take ten minutes, or it could take two hours.

A knock on the door made him look up and blink to see who was in his doorway. The hall outside was still dark and his office wasn't very bright either so it was a little difficult to see.

Steve smiled in greeting and leaned against the doorframe. He was still in his tactical gear, a bloody scratch on his cheek proving that he'd come straight from the helicarrier. "Hey, Y/N. You're up bright and early."

"Well, you two decided to come back before even the roosters are awake, so...here I am. Just in case you guys had sensitive intel for me." Y/N tiredly smiled in return.

"Ah. Buck's the one who gathered most of the intel. He wanted to shower first since he was, in his words, sweatier than a sinner in a church and smellier than a nightclub on Wednesdays." Steve shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if he's okay when he says stuff like that."

"A...nightclub on...Wednesdays?" Y/N asked, head tilted curiously.

"Apparently, Wednesdays were some of the busiest nights back in the day at the clubs he used to go to. Packed with people. We didn't really use deodorant in that time...so, it smelled pretty bad after a while." Steve explained. "Anyway, I came by to ask you a very important question."

"What's up?"

"What is your favorite caffeinated drink?"

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Y/N didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his desk until someone had carefully placed a cup next to him. He turned his head as he woke up, leaning his cheek against his arm. He blinked awake, noticing the mug.

"Bless you, you beautiful, beautiful person." He mumbled sleepily, straightening up and taking the warm drink gratefully.

"An apology for making you get up really early and somethin' to get you movin'." The person said with a soft voice. "Steve told me that was your favorite."

Y/N looked up at them and paused. He was tall - but that may have been the vantage point - and had wide shoulders. His eyes were a glittering blue and filled with friendliness. He gave a lopsided smile.

"I'm Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink." Y/N extended his hand to greet Bucky. "So, what do you have for me?"

Bucky set a small stack of old files on the corner of the desk before sitting down on the couch pressed against the wall meant for visitors. He laid his ankle on his knee, leaning back and lounging against the couch. He hitched his chin towards the dusty files.

"Grabbed them from the Hydra base we raided. Not sure what all is in there but it seemed pretty important given how it was locked in a safe within a safe, behind a vaulted door and guarded by people armed to the teeth." Bucky explained then sighed deeply, his head falling back against the top of the seat. He stared at the ceiling, shaking his head slightly.

"Sounds crazy. You okay?" Y/N swiveled in his chair to face Bucky, tilting his head slightly. He warmed his hands with the drink he'd been brought, taking slow sips periodically to avoid burning his tongue.

"Yeah, just tired and glad to be back." Bucky picked his head back up and brushed his hair back out of his face. It was obvious he had just gotten out of the shower not too long ago, his hair still damp and starting to curl up.

"Did you get hurt?" Y/N asked, concerned. From the looks of Steve, the mission had been rough on them. They'd been gone for almost two weeks.

"Nothin' major. Few scratches and bruises. Maybe a pinched nerve or muscle in my knee, but Bruce isn't awake yet to get it checked out." Bucky gestured with his head to his left knee before shrugging. "How're you settling in? I heard about Stark's smooth promotion offer."

"Oh, yeah...that scared the shit out of me. Everything's working out well. A little strange being my own boss, really, but it feels great. I know Angelica's having a blast with the fact there's a pool downstairs and she's surrounded by some pretty cool people." Y/N shook his head fondly. "New office, new room, new environment. It's different...but good."

"That's how I felt when I first moved here. Though, everyone wasn't as welcoming...and they had every right not to trust me." Bucky looked at the floor, expression faltering. "I'm...not the easiest to get along with somedays."

"I think we're getting along just fine." Y/N gave him a friendly smile. "I might be biased since you brought me my favorite drink."

Bucky laughed then, a warm sound that filled the space, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. "So you figured out my plan. Bribe you into likin' me."

"Don't think you have to bribe me very much." Y/N broke into laughter, too, happy to see a smile back on Bucky's face. "You should get some food and get some rest if you can."

"I won't be able to sleep until later. Too wired still and probably will be for most of the morning."

"Maybe Wanda will make some tea for you." Y/N set his cup down. "My daughter doesn't know that you two were coming back this morning. She can be very hyperactive and excited when meeting new people. I didn't want you to come back from a mission and possibly be in a bad state of mind only to be met with a kid who wants to ask you rapid-fire questions for an hour."

"I appreciate that. I won't be against meeting her this afternoon. It's a Monday, right?" Bucky glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five in the morning. "Yeah. Sometime this afternoon, if you want me to swing by and meet her, just let me know."

"Of course. Thanks, again, for the drink. I'll get to these files soon." Y/N smiled, waving his hand vaguely at the stack of files.

"No problem. I'll get out of your way and leave you to it. Nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy to have you on the team." Bucky stood raised his arms above his head in a stretch. "Oh, and if you need translating or cracking the codes, let me know and I'll help with what I can. See you around, Y/N."

"See you, Bucky." Y/N watched him walk past the glass front of his office and down the hall. All the rumors he'd heard about Bucky being gruff and cold to everyone he meets seemed to be untrue. He already liked the ex-assassin, despite only knowing him for ten minutes total. His rough exterior was offset by his kindness and concern for others.

Y/N pulled the top file and opened it. He sighed. It was all in Russian. Luckily, he could scan the documents into the computer and a program would translate them all out. The only thing he'd need to do afterward would be to create a decoder for the system Hydra used. He shook his mouse to wake his computer.

This was similar tedious work to what he'd used to do, but at least he could wear what he wanted and play music out loud without disturbing anyone. And his daughter could come in and out whenever she wanted when she was tearing around like the little gremlin she was.

With a wayward glance at the clock, he stood and started scanning the documents.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Angelica came running into Y/N's office after school had gotten out, her backpack thrown on the floor near the couch. She flopped onto it on her back, limbs sprawled out, groaning loudly.

"Well, hello to you, too." Y/N said, glancing up from his computer to look at his daughter. "How was school?"

"Boring. Like usual." She whined, throwing her arms out but nearly falling off the couch in the process. She squealed and steadied herself. "I wish we did harder math things or read more interesting things."

"Can't be as boring as what I've been doing." Y/N teased, scrolling through the newly translated documents. He was still scanning the files that Bucky had brought that morning and he had yet to start cracking the codes that HYDRA used. "I have at least thirty-eight papercuts on my hands now."

"Whatcha looking at?" Angelica rolled off the couch and moved to see his computer screens. He switched tabs quickly to a google home page. "Papaaa."

"It could be sensitive content, Angel. Can't show you that. And I have no idea what kind of content is in there. Some of it might not be suitable for you." Y/N picked her up and settled her on his lap, an arm around her waist. She leaned back against him, leaning her head against his. "I could take a break and we can watch some YouTube."

"Ooh! Can we watch some dog videos?" She asked, excited.

"Whatever you want, kiddo." He leaned forward and brought up YouTube, typing in a search for funny dog videos. "We can have a fifteen-minute break before I should get back to work and you should start on homework."

"Don't ruin this for me." Angelica groaned, lighting kicking his shin. "Ooh! The first one looks adorable. Look at his little paws!"

Y/N grinned and clicked on the video, turning up the volume. Her giggles and laughter always brightened his day. He watched a puppy stumble and tip a water dish over. Everyone needed a puppy break in the middle of the day and it was definitely needed after the very early morning.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

"Oh, wow. This is fancy. You sure moved up in the world." Kiera's voice startled Y/N and he looked up from his notes.

"Oh, hi! Come in, Kiera." Y/N minimized the tabs on his screens and closed his notebook. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a few files from our department that are directly related to a mission that's coming up that they want you to look at." She said, holding up two folders.

"I've not been told of any mission but let me see what's up." He held his hand out and she crossed his office to pass the files over. He opened the top one and scanned over the words. "I'll have to talk to Tony or Steve to see what this is about, but this seems pretty important."

"The boss man wanted me to run it up here as soon as it was compiled. Are you sure you don't know what it's about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"They might've told me and I just forgot. It's been a crazy few days with Natasha and Sam prepping to leave for a mission tonight and the intel I had to send to the Guardians." Y/N set the files down on his desk.

"So, how's it feel to be in the elite club?" Kiera sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. She was wearing a pencil skirt and heels, which he didn't actually pay attention to after doing a quick scan over her.

"I had to get up at like...three-thirty this morning because Rogers and Barnes decided to return from a mission with sensitive files at four." Y/N buzzed his lips, leaning back in his chair. "Rogers stopped by first to say hi and tell me Barnes had all the files."

"Sergeant Barnes makes me...uncomfortable sometimes. He's really quiet in meetings and always looks like he's angry or doesn't want to be there." Kiera pursed her lips. "And whenever he talks, he's really short and gruff. He just seems really cold and unapproachable. Did you have to deal with him alone?"

"He brought me my favorite drink, apologized for making me get up so early, and asked how I was settling in. He was nice and offered to help decode the files he'd brought." He shrugged, thinking back on their conversation that morning. "He was really friendly and open. I think he just isn't comfortable around strangers or large groups of people."

"Y/N, I'm worried about you and Angelica. What if he tries to hurt either of you? I know they say he's stable but is he really? What if he just snaps one day and turns back into the Winter Soldier?" Kiera stood and crossed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk.

Y/N arched a brow slightly as she laid a hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing in a circle over the fabric of his shirt. "Kiera, why are you even bringing this up? If there was even the possibility of him being a threat to anyone, especially Angelica, they wouldn't have let us move in here or he would still be in Wakanda."

"All I'm saying is that you should be careful, okay? I don't think you should get too close to him. I don't want to see you get hurt and I really don't want to see Angelica get hurt." Kiera said. She didn't even know Bucky other than what she's heard through rumors or the news, so why was she pushing this so much? In his eight-minute conversation with Bucky that morning, he'd already dismissed all the rumors and other experiences people had told him about because of how open and friendly he'd been.

"Kiera," He started, voice low and stern. "If I had any concerns about Bucky, I would speak to him directly about it. Talking about him behind his back and perpetuating rumors only hurts his reputation and the way people view him. He knows people don't trust him and feels that it's rightfully deserved."

"Just...be careful, okay? That's all I'm asking. I just fear for Angelica." Kiera said quietly.

"Oh, uh...I'll just...come back in a few minutes." A voice made them both turn and Y/N shrugged Kiera's hand off his shoulder. Bucky was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a hand raised to knock on the door.

"No, come on in, Bucky." Y/N flashed him a warm smile and gave a side-eyed glance at the woman still hovering near him. "Kiera was just leaving." He said through his teeth.

"The boss will want me back in my little cubicle." She stood and walked past Bucky without sparing a glance at him and paused in the doorway. "I'll see you Wednesday night." She winked and smiled before sauntering down the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Bucky avoided eye contact, looking at the pictures on the wall instead as he moved further into the office. He looked awkward, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Y/N wondered if he overheard their conversation.

"She was just bringing files relating to a mission coming up that I may or may not have been told about." Y/N turned back to his computer, opening his tabs and notebook again. Bucky could see the intel and he didn't have to worry about the confidential issue.

"Seemed a little more friendly than that." Bucky snorted, sitting down on the couch, and immediately sinking into it. He was relaxing with every passing second. "Wednesday, huh?"

"I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. The only plan I have Wednesday night is to go to the library after getting ice cream at Pop's Shoppe with Angelica like we do every Wednesday night." Y/N said, looking at him with an open expression of honesty.

"Sounded like a date to me." Bucky threw an arm over the back of the couch, his ankle resting on his knee. "Nothin' wrong with that if it was."

"She's just a friend." Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I should clear that up with her in case she got the wrong impression."

"I don't think you called me down here to talk about your workplace drama, though." Bucky gave him a lopsided smile, head tilted slightly. Any awkwardness or discomfort was gone. "What's up?"

"Need your help deciphering the codes. I've identified four different codes they use but I can't figure out what they mean." Y/N pressed his lips together in frustration. "I've written each of them down."

"Got a pen?" Bucky sat up, hand extended.

"Yeah. Here's the notebook, too." Y/N passed them to him, noticing that he didn't hesitate with reaching out with his metal arm. Not that he minded the metal prosthetic in the first place. "While you work on that, I can look over the files Kiera brought."

"She seems nice. Seen her in a couple of briefings. Knows what she's talking about and is really good at her job." Bucky said, eyes scanning the notebook as he wrote. "Not a bad choice, honestly."

"She is nice, but not my type." Y/N responded, opening one of the new files, ignoring the flush rising on his face. He was so embarrassed for absolutely no reason.

"Don't think she knows that." Bucky snorted before muttering something in Russian under his breath. He glanced up for a moment. "Maybe you should make it clear to her."

"Last week I used going to Operations Control - even though I was actually going to Accounting - as an excuse to leave just to stop her from asking me to dinner because I didn't want to turn her down." He admitted, keeping his gaze on the papers as his face warming up even more.

"Just let her down easy. Tell her you think she's nice but you aren't interested in a romantic relationship with her." Bucky suggested with a shrug.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both worked on their respective tasks. Occasionally, there was a soft whirring of the computers as the fans turned on to cool them down or of Bucky's arm as he moved. It was because of this that they both heard the footsteps rushing toward the office.

"Papa, I finished my homework! Can you check my multiplication worksheet?" Angelica came dashing in, holding a folder to her chest, and smiling broadly.

"Inside voice, kiddo. Inside voice." Y/N looked up with a gently chastizing expression. "But, yes. I can check your math."

Angelica stopped with wide-eyes, actually noticing the man on the couch for the first time since she'd sprinted in. There went the plan of setting up a meeting time for Bucky and the ball of energy.

Bucky glanced up and gave her a quick smile that reminded Y/N of the one he gave to people when they held doors open for him. It was full of awkward friendliness and Y/N had sympathy for him.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes." She said in amazement, smiling broadly in return. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely containing her enthusiasm.

"Uh, yep. That's my name, but you really don't need to call me James or Barnes or whatever. Just Bucky works." He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into his vision behind his ear. "And you're..?"

"Angelica. Kiddo, you can barrage Bucky with questions here in a second but I need your math homework if you want me to check it." Y/N chuckled. His daughter snapped out of her daze and rushed to hand her folder to him. She then skipped over to the couch and flopped down next to him.

"Whatcha working on?" She asked in her adorable way, her head tilted.

"Code cracking for your dad." Bucky hummed, shifting so he wasn't so closed off.

"Is it fun?"

"Sort of. I'm tired so I'm not exactly at a functioning level." He bounced his foot slightly. "I think you're the only person I've met who has been starstruck and knew my actual name."

"I did a project last month about you for history. That lesson was the only one that was not boring." Angelica swung her legs. "I think you're pretty cool."

"Oh," Bucky said, looking at the notebook. "Uh, thanks."

Y/N glanced up from the multiplication problems to see a blush spreading across the badass Winter Soldier's face. He smiled secretly and returned to the multiplication, scanning just to be sure his math whiz of a kid hadn't missed anything in her speed demon functions.

"Everyone else wanted to do projects on Natasha or Steve or Wanda and no one wanted to do a project on you. Made me mad 'cause they had all these ideas about you that were, like, not at all true but they didn't know that 'cause they jus' listened to their parents and didn't take ten minutes to think for themselfs." Angelica glared at the floor in her very childlike stern manner. "There's a reason you're a hero but they wouldn't know that 'cause all they'd heard was that you were a bad guy. So someone had to tell them otherwise."

"Alright, kiddo. This all looks correct. Good job." Y/N tucked the papers back into her folder and set his pen aside. She hopped off the couch and took her folder back with a smile. "Bucky and I need to get back to work, so you'll have to scram, okay?"

"Wanda said she'd teach me how to make some food from her homeland when I was done with my homework," Angelica told him.

"You remember the rules?"

"Yep!"

"Then scram. Have fun." Y/N gently shoved her shoulder and she giggled.

"Bye, Bucky! See you later!" Angelica said, pausing at the door to give him a wave.

"See ya around, sweetie." He waved back with a friendly smile before she took off running down the hall again. "She is quite the ball of energy."

"You have no idea." Y/N laughed, picking the file back up. "She didn't make you uncomfortable or anything, right? She tends to get loud and talkative when she's super excited."

"No, no. It was cute. I've...never really had someone act like that the first time I've met them. Usually, they're all wary and distrustful like I'm some feral dog that has to be danced around." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. His lips were pressed into a firm line and he glared at the notebook.

"You know, when she did that project on you, she wouldn't stop talking about you for weeks. I've seen her get passionate about things before, but for some reason, she was extra determined to prove to everyone that you're a good guy now." Y/N smiled fondly. "She likes seeing the good in people. Always have, and probably always will."

"I think she takes after you on that one," Bucky mumbled under his breath. "This should let you decode the information. They mixed codes a lot just to be extra sure no one could sell the intel."

Y/N took his notebook and pen back with a nod. "Thanks. This will help a ton."

Bucky stood, wincing slightly as his knee popped. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Oh, I have a deal proposition before you go." Y/N stopped him with a smirk.

"I'm listening." Bucky arched a brow.

"You bring my drink every morning and every time Angelica plans a prank on you or a prank that could affect you, I'll let you know. If she asks, just say it's a super-soldier superpower or something." Y/N offered with a mischievous grin. "We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Bucky shook his hand.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Taglist - @supernaturalwintersoldier @shadowolf993 @myybebe @pastel-boy-sungjae

#mint ice cream & bubblegum kisses #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x single dad!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #tw earthquake #i talk about it in the note at the beginning

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yorit1 · 4 years

Text

Superman & Stiles:ch 2 Toyman

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084651/chapters/74354385#workskin

Stiles was nervous he had an article written about Superman, and he hoped that the editor would let him publish it. It was only his first week on the job, and he felt like he was overstepping his boundaries. Stiles was jittery from all the coffee that he drank to finish this article. He hoped that the editor liked it. He was twitching as he entered the building.

The first thing he saw when he entered the Daily Planet was Derek Hale. Derek smiled at him, and Stiles smiled back. Derek had such a cute smile, Stiles thought. Stiles walked to the editor’s office to show him the article that he wrote.

“Mr. Finstock,” Stiles said as he knocked on the door.

“What can I do for you Mr. Stilinski?” Finstock asked.

“I have an exclusive with Superman that I wrote and thought we could publish it,” Stiles said and handed him the article.

Finstock took the article and looked it over, humming at different parts.

“This is good. This is more personal then Superman has ever gotten. How did you get it, rookie?”

“I just asked him the questions, and he responded to them.”

“It must be your fresh face, rookie. Keep up this work, and you will have the position.” Finstock said.

Stiles left the office and saw Matt. He smirked at him. Matt gave him a nasty look, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Stiles was doing well, and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly Matt was right in front of him.

“Whatever you think you got, Bilinski, it won’t be as good as what I have. You are a loser, and I’ll make sure that this is your last day at the Daily Planet. No one cares about investigative journalism. It’s all about the clicks, and my stuff will be more clickbaity loser.” Matt said as he checked him.

Stiles knew that now people were more interested in getting immediate news sources, and the newspapers were trying clickbaity articles. However, Stiles knew that there was still room for his investigative journalism, and he will not give up without getting the answers he needs and to the bottom of whatever he was investigating.

“Just ignore him. I’m sure whatever you wrote was great,” Derek said as he walked over to him.

Stiles smiled at Derek, and Derek smiled right back at him. Derek was always so kind to him, and Stiles appreciated it.

“Ready to get to work?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded and went with Derek to continue their investigation into the pharmaceutical company.

Stiles was in the coffee room, making himself a coffee. Matt suddenly came in and hip-checked Stiles. Stiles flailed to get out of the way and ended up spilling the coffee in himself.

“Watch out, Biles, you don’t want to get me covered in your hot coffee.”

Stiles looked down at himself and saw that the coffee, stained his shirt, and he hoped that he wouldn’t burn. He looked up and saw Derek looking with a concerned look, and he blushed. ‘Great, another excellent appearance by you, Stiles. Now he is going to think that I’m a spaz.’ Stiles berated himself.

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Derek asked with concern.

“Ah, yes, I guess. I’m just gonna head home and change my shirt,” Stiles said.

“I have an extra that you can borrow if you like.” Derek offered.

Stiles smiled in thanks, and Derek went to where he kept his extra shirts and handed one to Stiles. Stiles went to the bathroom and changed shirts.

When Stiles came back, Derek was gone.

Derek heard a commotion downtown and hurried after it. When he got downtown, he saw the toyman, and he had a bunch of his toys that he was using to play games with people and blow them up.

“What do we have here, two lovers? Well, one of you has to choose between saving yourself or saving the other. When the clicker of this little mouse ends, it will go kaboom.” The toyman said with glee and laughed.

Derek saw what he had to do and went to try and save the couple without blowing anyone up.

“I see you joined in on our fun Superman. You are here just in time. If you touch one of them in a certain place, the mouse will blow up. Have fun rescuing them until next time, Superman.” The toymaker said. And got on his toy elevator and escaped.

Derek had the option of saving them or catching the toyman. There was no way he would let anyone die. He would have to try and catch the toyman another day.

Derek worked carefully in untangling and froze the whole wire so it would stop the ticking time bomb. When he was successful, he brought them down And brought them to safety.

“Thank you, Superman,” The man thanked, and the women shook her head in thanks.

“Superman, another great save. Can I ask you a few questions?” He heard a reporter ask.

Derek then saw Stiles and decided he would only answer his questions.

Stiles hurried on to get to Superman and tripped over his feet as he tried to get to him. Derek thought it was adorable how clumsy Stiles was.

“Hey, Superman, I have a few questions for the Daily Planet?” Stiles asked.

“What can I do for you?” Superman responded.

“What are you going to do now that the toymaker is a threat to the city?” Stiles asked.

“Well, hopefully, I’ll be able to catch him soon so that he doesn’t hurt any more citizens. My top priority is to make sure all the citizens of Metropolis are safe.” Superman answered with authority.

Stiles asked him a few more questions, and Derek answered every one of his questions. Stiles was a smart one and would make an excellent reporter. Derek was excited to see him grow in his role.

“Thanks for answering my questions Superman,” Stiles said with appreciation.

“I look forward to reading the article Stiles,” Superman said.

Derek said that and flew away. He needed to be back at the office.

When Stiles made it back home, he saw that Scott was on the sofa, and he must have just gotten home.

“Scott, my buddy, my friend, how was your day?” Stiles asked.

“Whose shirt are you wearing?” Scott asked as he saw Stiles wearing a shirt that was clearly not his. Scott was not usually the most observant, so if he noticed, it must be evident.

“That asshole, Matt, spilt coffee all over my shirt and blamed it on me. I was lucky that Derek was there and that he had an extra shirt. I would have missed Superman if I had to go home and change. The toyman is back, and Superman is going to fight him. God, I hate Matt, but I am so lucky that Superman let me interview him. I’ll have another article plus the research that Derek and I are doing into the pharmaceutical company.” Stiles said all in one breath.

“What is this Derek like?” Scott asked.

“He is literally the most beautiful human that I have ever seen. He has these Green eyes and Dark hair and a little bit of stubble, and he is totally fit like he fits into his shirt so nicely. He is so beautiful.” Stiles said.

“That’s great. I hope things work out between you too.”

“I probably made a fool out of my self when Matt spilt the coffee because when I came back from the bathroom to change shirts, he was gone. But then, when I came back from interviewing Superman, he was back. I wonder if he was just avoiding me or what it was weird.” Stiles said.

“I’m sure he will notice how smart you are and what a great reporter you are. You are also pretty cute with amazing eyes and a nice smile. I am sure he has noticed that.” Scott said.

“Scott, you are the best bro anyone could ask for. Thanks for having my back. I’m gonna go shower and change. After that, we can play some video games.” Stiles said and went to the bathroom.

Stiles thought over what happened with Derek and had a hopeful smile on his face.

Derek got home and was thinking over what happened with Stiles today. It looked like Matt was going to play dirty to get the position. Stiles was a better reporter than him, and he was already Derek favorite reporter. There was a reason he was giving Stiles all these exclusive interviews. Stiles was clumsy and funny and sassy and was able to fight for himself. He also had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were amber, and Derek could not get them out of his head those amber beauties. Derek was so lost in thought that he almost missed the commotion that was happening outside. Luckily he did not miss the toyman’s cackle.

Derek hurried to where he heard him and found him in an old toy factory.

“Oh good, you’re here Superman, we are ready for the fun to begin. Across the city, I have placed different bombs in toys wrapped as presents. I placed them at different kids birthday parties throughout the city. The bombs will go off in an hour. Have fun finding them,” The toyman said as little stuffed bears came down and exploded. When he looked, the toymaker was not there.

Derek had to hurry and find all the gifts that had bombs in them. It was times like this that Derek wished that he had a team that worked with him. It would help him save the city quicker. Derek flew to the different birthday parties and showed up, and checked the gifts with his vision. When he did not find anything, he went to the next party. He found one at the fifth party he was at and flew the gift away, and froze it with his breath to stop the bomb.

Derek had five more minutes left, and he had not finished going to all the parties. He hoped that he was able to get all the bombs and that no children were hurt. When he arrived at the last party, he saw a blond woman in a catsuit who had used her claws to untangle the bomb. She had gotten the last bomb, and everyone was safe.

“It looks like I beat you to it, Superman,” The woman said.

“Good job,” Superman said and checked to make sure there were no more bombs.

He saw the woman do some gymnastic acrobats to leave before he was able to learn who she was.

It had been a long day for Derek, and all he wanted was to be closer to Stiles to see him and see how he was doing. He was able to ensure that no one got hurt today, and that was a step in the right direction, but now he needed to see Stiles.

Derek flew by Stiles apartment and knocked on the window.

“Superman, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to stop by and see you. I have not caught the toyman yet and wanted to make sure that you were safe. He set bombs in gifts all across the city, and I was able to get them in time.”

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked as he looked at Superman.

Stiles noticed that there was something familiar about his eyes. He was familiar to him, and Stiles wanted to get to know him better.

“Can I get you anything water or something? It must have been a tiring day,” Stiles offered to try to be helpful.

Stiles went and got some water and came back when he handed it to him. When he touched his hand, he felt a jolt go up against him. It was something that Stiles had never felt before. Stiles looked up at Superman and saw that he had thought it too.

“I um I… Is there any way I can help you catch the toyman?” Stiles asked.

“Do you have any idea where he might be hiding? YOu are an excellent investigative journalist. If anyone can find him, it’s you.” Derek said.

He was hiding for a decade, and he used to be found in this factory that he owned that went out of business. There was also a secret shack where he built his toys, and not many people know about it, but I found it in my research.” Stiles said as he showed him the files he had on the toyman.

“This helps Stiles. Hopefully, if I catch him unsuspected, I will be able to bring him in. You have an excellent eye for detail, Stiles. There is a reason you are my favorite reporter.”

Superman thanked Stiles and flew away, hoping to catch the toyman unsuspecting and hopefully bring him in before anyone got hurt.

Superman flew to the place that Stiles showed him, and when he looked with his vision, he saw that he was in there. Superman crept so that he would be able to fight him and surprise him to apprehend him.

Superman flew in and saw the Toyman working on a giant gift bomb. Superman freeze breathed on it and froze the whole thing.

“Superman?” The Toyman said in surprise.

Superman punched Toyman and knocked him unconscious. He called the police, and they came to apprehend him. Derek was proud of himself for a good job done. He had finally put the Toyman away, and the city was a safer place.

The cops all thanked Superman, and he flew home, Happy that he could save the day.

Stiles arrived at the office excited the next day. He had another article about Superman that was ready to publish. It was about his latest heroics in saving the city and also included some things that Superman had told him last night when he came over. Yesterday had not been the best day, what with Matt spilling the coffee on him, but today, Stiles would ensure it was a better day.

“Stilinski, my office now!” Finstock called out.

Stiles hurried to the editor’s office with his article, one that he had emailed to him as well.

“This is a good article, Matt sent me one too, but your insider knowledge of Superman is far superior. I may move you off the bench if you continue this way.” Finstock said.

Stiles let an inner cheer, and it was like Scott had said yesterday. Matt was just jealous that he was getting insider scops with Superman. His career may be taking off, and Stiles was happy about that.

Stiles left the office and saw Derek. He smiled at him, and Derek smiled back. Stiles felt all giddy in his stomach. Something was soothing about Derek’s smile.

“I have this for you. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Stiles handed Derek the shirt back and felt a spark go through his body when they touched. He looked up at Derek, and Derk was smiling down at him.

“Would you like to go to dinner on Friday night?” Derek asked nervously.

“Yea, yes, of course. I mean, I would love to. Yea,” Stiles babbled nervously.

“Great, give me your number, and I’ll text you the details,” Derek said, and Stiles handed him his phone so that Derek could give him his number.

Stiles texted him so that Derek would have his number as well. Derek smiled at him and felt like there was a bubble in his stomach.

“Great, I’ll text you with the details. I’m looking forward to this.”

Stiles and Derek smiled at each other and went to work on their big case that they were uncovering.

“Scott Derek asked me out!” Stiles exclaimed when he got home and saw Scott.

“THats amazing, bro. I’m sure Lydia will want to dress you so that you look your best.” Scott said enthusiastically.

“Oh shit, I need to text Lydia all about this, and she will play with me like a doll. Let me text her.”

Stiles got his phone out and texted Lydia. Lydia was excited and said that she would be over Friday at five to help him get ready for his date.

“Scott, I can’t believe I have a date with the hottest and kindest and smartest man in the universe. This is the year of Stiles. I tell you good things will be happening.”

“That’s the best, bro. I’m so happy for you.” Scott said.

They heard the doorbell, and Scott assumed it was the food he had ordered for them. He asked Stiles to get it.

When Stiles looked, he saw a beautiful blond woman looking at him, and he smiled.

“Hi, I’m Erica. I just moved in across the hall, and I wanted to introduce myself to my neighbors.” the blond woman said.

“Hi, Erica. I’m Stiles, and that is Scott. It’s great to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

Erica agreed to come in. Erica wanted to get to know Stiles more as it seemed like he was the key to figuring it out.

#sterek #superman sterek au #stiles stilinski #Scott McCall #derek hale #erica reyes #superman

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

The Friendly Long Horse

Long Horse is a character created by Trevor Henderson. Please support his works.

---

I was leaning against a fence, watching my wife’s two horses graze in the field. The brown one, Buttercup, trotted over to me for pats. I reached out to pet her, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. She bit down hard, and tugged off my hand. I pulled my arm away, screaming. My hand disappeared into her mouth. Her ear flicked, her eyes were calm. Like nothing was abnormal about this. Then, she put her head through the fence and bit my arm. Before I knew it, I was being pulled through the fence and into her mouth, bit by bit, until she’d consumed all of me.

I woke up.

A dream. Of course. If it weren’t a dream, I would have run away once she’d eaten my hand, and she wouldn’t have put her head through the barbed-wire fence, anyhow. Of course, that’s all pretty silly to mention considering that no horse, but especially not Buttercup, would casually eat a human alive.

In the early morning darkness, I noticed what looked like a horse skull, with no jaw and a few strands of black mane, peaking out from behind my door. I dismissed it as a trick of the light and went back to sleep.

The next morning, the horse skull was still there, staring at me.

Unsure what to do, I approached the door. The skull vanished the second I opened it, as though it was never there. It had moved, as though by teleportation, to peeking out at me from behind a corner before the staircase. That’s how it was all morning- the horse skull was always there, watching from behind something, disappearing whenever necessary. I value my privacy, so I tried pushing it out while I was in the shower, but it vanished right before I could touch it, appearing at the other side of the shower curtain.

It was with me on my way to work, peering from behind lamp posts as I drove. I turned on the radio. Turned it way up. This had to be a hallucination. An entire horse could not fit behind a lamp post. Not to mention everything else wrong with this. I sincerely hoped that I wasn’t losing my mind.

The thing is, this didn’t map onto any mental illness I knew of, and as a psychology PhD who has worked for years at an insane asylum, I would know. People who have hallucinations don’t know that they’re having hallucinations, and any psychotic disorder you could name comes with other symptoms, like slurred speech and delusions. Of course, the person is not always aware of these symptoms- my clients have often said that the first sign of an episode starting is that strangers treat them differently.

I did not want people to treat me differently, so I did not mention the horse skull to any sane human being. However, I did mention it to one of my clients that day, while administering an ink blot test.

“Do you see the horse skull?” I asked.

My client, a slack-jawed 28-year-old man who looked twice his age, squinted at the ink blot photo that I held in my hand.

“No. I mean the one over there.” I pointed to it. He looked over his shoulder and then back at me.

“No. Should I?” he asked.

“No. No, that’s a good sign,” I said. I felt as though the skull were mocking me.

Every night for the next three nights, I had nightmares of dying at the hooves of a horse. I’d been trampled. I’d ridden horses off of cliffs or into incoming traffic. I’d even had a horse drown me in his trough.

Each morning I would wake up to that damned skull, and I was able to sense her in a new way. On the first day, I became capable of smelling her- she smelled like cinnamon and rotting bone. The next, I became capable of hearing her make her little snorts and whinnies. On the next, a fog descended upon everything in my immediate environment, and I felt that it was a part of her.

I didn’t know what to do. To be frank, I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to spend my evenings on the other side of the insane asylum walls. I didn’t think it would help, anyhow- I’d had time by now to thoroughly consult the DSM-V, and if I were crazy, it was a type of crazy that no one had bothered to study or cure yet.

On the fifth day I spent with that skull watching me, I came home in the evening to a message written across my bedroom wall in black:

Go ride Blackjack.

I went. I felt insane for obeying the message, but I went.

Blackjack is ostensibly my horse. My wife had thought Buttercup was lonely, and that it would be nice for us to ride horses together, and so she bought a black gelding that was big enough for me to ride. I found out pretty quickly, though, that riding is not at all my thing, and so Blackjack hasn’t been ridden in a couple years. She tells me that he’s perfectly happy just running around the pasture, and she’s the one that would know. She grew up on and inherited this farm- I’m just some city mouse that she met at college.

Once I got to the stable, the first obstacle presented itself: I didn’t know where his saddle was, and even if I did, I had no idea how to put it on. The horse skull peered me from behind a wooded post and patted Blackjack’s back with her chin.

“Bareback?” I asked.

She nodded in response.

I prayed that I wasn’t committing some sort of horse abuse, took Blackjack out, and got on him. He started galloping immediately. My heart nearly stopped. This was like too many of my nightmares.

Blackjack took me down a dirt road until we came to a wooded area. By then, the sun was setting, and combined with the fog that I’d become used to squinting through, it was making it difficult to see. We entered the wooded area. And there was what she meant to show me.

Approaching the corpse under the giant, rotted tree, I desperately hoped that it was just a big deer. As soon as those solid, round hooves came into view through the mist, though, I knew better. It was Buttercup, her ribs torn open. Her body was cold, and yet there were no tooth marks on her. She was perfectly preserved except for a surgical-looking slit on her belly, and the fact that her ribs looked to have been torn open and then put vaguely back into place.

My wife would be devastated, and what was more, I now had to face that I wasn’t crazy. Something supernatural was happening, and I didn’t know what.

The horse skull was floating next to me now- the first time I saw her and she wasn’t hidden from me. She tapped me on the shoulder and then floated over to a patch of dirt. Her mist parted, revealing a message constructed from Buttercup’s intestines.

LEAVE WHILE YOU STILL CAN

I got back onto Blackjack, who gave me a swift ride home. I said nothing of the event to anyone, even when my wife mentioned that Buttercup was missing and called the police over it. I did not sleep that night. It didn’t feel safe. I thought about waking her up and getting her to leave with me, but how would I explain to her that I wanted to leave home because a horse skull had led me to a message spelled out in Buttercup’s remains? Finally, I came up with an excuse.

“Sharol?” I said, shaking her awake. “We should leave. Whoever took Buttercup is probably still out there. We’d be safer somewhere else until the police can come and take a look at what happened.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, still snuggled into bed. “We’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

I’d known it was a long shot. Still, I didn’t want to leave her. “Please. I feel like we might not be safe here.”

“It’s two in the morning,” was all she said.

I... left without her. I shouldn’t have. I was still in the mindset that this wasn’t quite real, I guess. I was going to leave for a motel, but the fog on the road was incredibly thick. I could see nothing but white all around me. The horse skull appeared in front of me on the road, and it seemed to be backing up at the same pace as I was going towards it. Finally, I got out of the car. The skull approached me, and a few feet of spine appeared behind it. It- no, she, I knew it was a she now, somehow- encircled me. I was expecting something awful to happen, but nothing did. The words, “It has arrived. Stay here if you want to live,” appeared to me in the mist.

Of course, I wanted to go back for Sharol. And I got into the car despite the horse’s protests, but I couldn’t find the turn-off to our house in all of the fog.

“Get rid of it!” I yelled at the horse skull. “I know you can! Get rid of this fog so that I can go back to my wife!”

The horse skull did not respond. I ended up just spending the rest of the night in my car, with the horse skull curled up on my lap.

The fog dissipated a few hours later, and I took that as a cue that it was safe to go back home. It was not a pretty sight. A quick look in the barn made it seem as though all of the livestock had been turned inside out, and various equipment had been thrown about. There were no bloody footprints on the ground, and anyhow, it would have been nearly impossible to butcher and flay so many animals in only a few hours. The inside of the house looked as though a hurricane had hit it. I remember stepping over piles of broken glass and pottery in the kitchen. I went up to our bedroom, terrified, but Sharol’s corpse wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gotten away. I went to the garage to see, and... there it was. The mutilated corpse of a human, with a sledge hammer in her hands. Black goo covered one side of the sledge hammer like blood. She’d been trying to fight off whatever had been here.

The horse skull put its chin on my shoulder in a comforting gesture. I picked up the sledgehammer from her hands, shaking with the temptation to bash the creature’s skull in for not doing any of the things it could have done to save her. The damn skull could have told me what was coming. It could have given her a message. It could have given me a message that I could have shared with her without showing her Buttercup’s disembodied guts.

In my anger, I took a swing at her, and the skull fell to the ground, seemingly undamaged somehow. In an instant, I could see her entire spine- I guess because she was out cold and wasn’t able to hide it anymore. The spine went right out of the garage door, out the door to my house, and down the street for what seemed like half a mile. I saw a car drive over it, seemingly clipping through as though her spine didn’t even exist. Then, it started moving, picking up into the sky. And she left. Maybe she was mad at me for being ungrateful for her protection, or scared that I’d hurt her again, or she just had the understanding that her work here was done. But whatever her reasons, I never saw her again.

#creepypasta #trevor henderson #my fanfiction #long horse #tw gore #tw violence

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

Rating: T

Summary: Marinette needs a model to finish her figure drawing portfolio. If drawing Chat Noir will distract him from asking why she refuses to ask Adrien, then she'll make it work. (It's not like his suit leaves much to the imagination, anyway.)

Word Count: 4729 | Chapter 1/2

Notes: See AO3 for notes. tldr: the main genre is humor and despite what you may think, there are no sexy times

XXX

“This is terrible!” Marinette flopped face-first onto her bed and wailed into her pillow. “I’m going to fail figure drawing, and get kicked out of the design major, and never get an internship and starve trying to get commissions and I won’t be able to afford cookies for you which means you’ll have to find a new chosen and Chat Noir will hate me and—”

“Marinette, breathe!” Tikki ordered, lightly smacking the part of her cheek that wasn’t buried in her pillow. “You’re catastrophizing again! None of that is going to happen.”

On a conscious level, Marinette knew that. But that didn’t particularly matter right now when her mind was racing and the final due date for her portfolio was days away and there was no way for her to catch up now.

The figure drawing lab was closed for the models to prepare for their finals. This wouldn’t be a problem, except she had missed too many classes due to akuma attacks to finish the pieces she needed. All she had were five out of fifteen finished drawings and six loose sketches, hastily abandoned while she made increasingly awful excuses to go transform. “I need to go water my plant” had been the most recent. It was a miracle Professor Carbonneau hadn’t kicked her from the class already, considering how coveted the seats were.

But it didn’t matter if she was technically in the class if she couldn’t draw enough live models to pass.

“It’s hopeless, Tikki. There’s no way they’ll let me retake this class. I barely got a spot in the first place.”

“It’s not hopeless,” her kwami said more softly. “You’re Ladybug. You’re luckier than that. And you’ve worked too hard to fail now. I know you’re stressed, but you can’t give up!”

She rolled over onto her back, shoulder brushing a drawing that had slid down the wall and gotten lodged in the crack next to her bed. She pulled it out only to crumple it and toss it towards her trash can. Even the better designs she’d hung from a wire with tiny clothespins felt more like mockery than inspiration right now.

“If I wasn’t Ladybug, I wouldn’t have had to miss so much class in the first place.” She sighed.

“I know, Marinette.” Tikki patted her shoulder consolingly. “I wish it didn’t have to be so hard on you. You give everything you have into both being Ladybug and creating your art. You shouldn’t have to give up one for the other.”

In a way, it felt like she already had. She’d never abandon Paris, no matter how frequently fighting Hawkmoth’s villains cut into her classes. But could she really abandon her dreams of becoming a designer either?

“You’re right, Tikki. I’ll… figure something out.” She smiled and rubbed Tikki to her cheek. “I can look up reference pictures online, I guess. The details won’t be as good as drawing from life, especially for the size of paper I have to use, but it’ll have to work.”

“I could always model for you!” Tikki joked, flashing a few poses she’d surely seen from the Agreste magazines Marinette used to have plastered everywhere. She figured she’d look weird enough to her flatmates from her odd sleeping habits and patrol times without adding photos of her old crush into the mix.

“Thanks for the offer, Tikki.” Marinette giggled at the kwami’s attempt to look flirty. “But I think this course is meant to teach human anatomy.”

“I bet one of your other friends would model for you if they knew how important this was,” she insisted. “What about Adrien?”

“No!” Marinette smacked her fist to her forehead to try to dislodge the image of Adrien shirtless and posing for her that came unbidden. “I can’t ask him! I’m trying to actually get art done, not drool all over the carpet.”

“I haven’t seen you drool in a while. Not over him, anyway.” Tikki smiled knowingly, and Marinette glared.

“I do not drool over Chat Noir either.”

“I never said anything about him.”

She groaned, flopping back and wishing the mattress would just swallow her up already. She didn’t drool over Chat. He’d gotten over his crush on Ladybug before they came to university. Unlike her, apparently, he knew how to move on.

Not that it mattered, because she didn’t have time for a boyfriend! She was stressed enough as it was!

She took a few deep breaths and pulled herself back to the matter at hand: finishing her portfolio. She wouldn’t dare ask Adrien to model for her, even if there was a slim chance he’d actually do it. They were finally comfortable as friends, and while she was used to staring at nearly-nude models in class, she didn’t trust herself to not make things weird again if she had to stare at him in his underwear for hours.

Though unfortunately, he was probably the only one of her friends used to sitting and being stared at for hours. Maybe it would be worth it…?

“Nope, nope, not doing it.” She shut her eyes again. She hadn’t been able to confess to Adrien in the past four years. There was no way she could risk revealing her crush in such an embarrassing way, even to save her final grade.

...Granted, she’d done worse. He’d gotten her constipation pills and she hadn’t given up.

“What are you not doing?”

“ACK!”

Marinette bolted upright, nearly toppling off of her bed at the voice from the window. For a moment it had sounded like Adrien himself, summoned by her thoughts. Thankfully, it was just the blond boy who was a more regular visitor to her fifth-story window.

“Chat!” She whirled to scowl at him through the windowscreen. “Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

How long had he been there? Had he heard Tikki? Had he heard her not-confess to drooling about him?

“You left the window open.” He shrugged from his perch on the outer ledge.

She had left the window open because she needed some fresh air to keep from suffocating under the pressure of her deadlines. Sure, usually the open window meant Chat was welcome in, but…

Actually, maybe Chat Noir was exactly who she needed right now.

“I guess I did.” She sighed before prying off the screen to let him in.

He slipped over the sill, bowed, and produced a pink rose from behind his ear.

“For your hospitality.”

She laughed and tucked it in the vase on her desk, replacing the wilting flower he’d brought her last week. She was lucky her roommates weren’t as nosy as Alya, or she’d never hear the end of it.

“You know, if you’d really wanted to get me something, you could’ve brought the rabbit miraculous.” She leaned back against her creaking desk as he took his usual spot on the cushion in the corner of the room.

It was a joke, but as she said it, the idea sounded tempting. Alix wouldn’t mind parting with Fluff for a day while she patched her portfolio back together, would she? If she weren’t worried about causing some kind of temporal paradox, she would’ve done it.

“Rabbit? Sorry, someone else has already hopped on that one.” He grinned, crossing his legs beneath him. “You don’t feel like squeaking by with the mouse again?”

She stifled a laugh. “You’re terrible.”

“But you’re smiling.” Only he could look so smug about it. She always frowned just to prove him wrong. But she did feel better already, the way she always did around him. “So what’s up? I didn’t come to my favorite civilian’s house just to drop a few amazing puns.”

“Awful puns.”

He waved her off. “Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were doing, with finals coming up and everything. Akuma attacks always spike around now, you know.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She rubbed her temples.

“Don’t worry, though. Ladybug and I have special patrol routes this finals week. We’ll take care of any akumas faster than you can say ‘thank you Chat, you’re the best superhero ever’.”

Despite everything, she laughed. The daily patrols would be just one more stress placed on her, but it was necessary after Finalizer destroyed the entire university last semester. But Chat was surely dealing with the same thing, and he’d still taken the time out of his studying to come make sure she was alright.

“Thank you Chat, you’re the best superhero ever,” she said with a teasing grin. She didn’t expect the blush that spilled out from under his mask.

“I-I guess I am pretty great.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“And I guess bragging about yourself is supposed to scare off akumas, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean—hey!” He pouted, sending her giggling again.

“Sorry, sorry.” She joined him on the ground by the cushion. “You are great. I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m really glad you came.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s just… been a long day.” She sighed. “I missed my last class today, and now I don’t know how I’m going to finish my portfolio for my final.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He reached out to press his palm over her forehead, as if he’d be able to feel anything through his glove. “I’ve heard people get sick around finals week, too. Do you want soup? I can bring back some soup—or juice maybe? What do you like when you’re sick?”

“Stop, Chat, I’m not sick.” Though her face probably warmed enough at his concern to pass as a fever. “I just missed class because… um—I stayed up too late studying and accidentally fell asleep!”

“Oh.” He pulled back his hand and nodded sagely. “That makes sense.”

She held in a sigh of relief. “Anyway, I need to finish at least four more figure drawings before… three days from now? Which wouldn’t be a problem except I need a live model and it’s not normal for friends to strip down to draw each other.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t sound that weird to me.”

She pointedly did not imagine him stripping down in front of her. ...Not entirely, anyway.

“Yeah, well, unless you want to model for me—”

“I will.” He grinned before pink tinged his cheeks. “Um, or I would. I don’t think I can take off my suit without revealing my identity.”

“You—take off—” She made some noise that vaguely approximated a keyboard smash. Not because of the thought of seeing him shirtless! But he really trusted her that much, even as a civilian?

“Sorry, forget I offered. It was stupid.” He suddenly looked even more embarrassed than her, which was saying something.

“No, no! I—I really appreciate it, Chat Noir.” She squeezed his arm and smiled gently. “I would never ask you to detransform for me, but it means a lot that you even thought about it. Really.”

“You know you’re one of my best friends, Marinette. Of course I would. Besides, I’m used to—nevermind.” He ruffled the hair at the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’d gladly model for you if I could. But hey, don’t you have a friend who’s literally a model? Why don’t you ask him?”

Her eyes widened at the sudden subject change. “A-Adrien? NO! I—I mean I can’t, I—” She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. It was bad enough for Tikki to tease her, but if Chat Noir found out about her maybe-not-so-old crush? She would never hear the end of it.

“Why not?” His head tilted, his brow creasing beneath his mask. “He is your friend, right?”

“Yes.” She sighed. Just a friend, who would probably not enjoy her ogling him half-naked. Which wasn’t the point! She was just trying to pass her class, not stare at boys!

Maybe she should ask Alya at this rate. She was ride-or-die enough to do it. But Alya had a worse finals schedule than any of her friends, with all the journalism papers she’d put off while chasing akumas for the Ladyblog. Nino, then? No, he had several music scores to finish composing.

Adrien probably had as much work as the rest of them, with his math and physics classes. It wouldn’t make sense to ask him.

“Then I don’t see what the big deal is,” Chat said. “I’m sure he’d love to model for you.”

“He’s probably busy,” she said, which was true. “And besides, modeling for figure drawing is completely different from clothes modeling. You have to hold poses much longer, and some of them are weird, and you have to, you know, wear a lot less clothes.”

Her face burned. She was stupid to even bring it up; she was just digging herself an even deeper hole.

“I think you underestimate how long photoshoots take,” he quipped back, and she raised an eyebrow.

“How would you know, anyway?”

“I-I wouldn’t! I just think, all things considered, he’s your best choice. I’m just trying to suggest what’s best for your grade, as a good, supportive friend should do.”

“Uh-huh.” She frowned. It did seem a bit odd how insistent he was on this. Had he guessed her not-so-secret-crush after all? “It doesn’t matter, because it’s not going to happen.”

“But—”

“Nope,” she cut him off, shoving him a little to make room for herself on the cushion. He scooted to let her smush in next to him. “I’d sooner draw you suited up.”

“...Would that work?”

She glanced at his chest, which was about at her eye level with the way she was slouched against him. She never really thought about it before—really, she hadn’t—but the suit didn’t leave too much to the imagination. If she used Chat as a model and just fudged a few parts, would anyone really be able to tell? It would definitely be easier to get the proportions right than it would be drawing from a screen, especially for the quick gestures that were supposed to comprise a third of her portfolio.

And if it distracted him from asking about Adrien, well, that was just a bonus.

“You know what? I think it would.” She grinned and scrambled up to get her drawing board, which she’d dropped against her desk as soon as she’d gotten home, too exhausted to store it properly. Part of the giant pad of newsprint was coming off of its clips, and she adjusted it before propping it up against the foot of her bed. It was even less comfortable than the benches in the drawing lab, but it would do.

“You—really?” He beamed.

“Of course, silly cat. I might not be able to use you for the detailed figures, but need gesture drawings too. Your suit is tight enough that—nevermind.” She flushed again. This was such a bad idea.

But it would work. If she could be professional with Chat Noir while fighting akumas, then surely she could be as professional as she was with the paid figure drawing models.

She expected him to tease her over that last comment, but he just sprung up and started striking ridiculous poses.

“So, how do you want me?” He flexed, and she snorted.

“Not like that. These are warm-up gestures, so let’s have you do a few that you can hold for at least thirty seconds. They can be standing or sitting or using props, it doesn’t matter.”

“Props, huh?” He tapped his chin before reaching behind his back for his baton. It wasn’t like it was unusual for models to pose with staves in class, but she still had a feeling she was going to regret giving Chat Noir that permission.

Two seconds later when he had an arm and a leg wrapped around his baton, she knew she regretted it.

“How’s this?” He asked, flashing a toothy grin.

“Chat.” She glared, and he laughed before stopping his joking attempt at pole dancing.

“Sorry, sorry.” His grin was unrepentant, but he rested the baton behind his shoulders instead. “Better?”

She shook her head while letting out a little laugh. He was just such a dork.

“Sure, that’ll work.”

She fished her conté sticks out of her pencil case, set a thirty second timer on her phone, and swore that she wouldn’t make this awkward.

She looked up to find him pursing his lips in a kissy face.

Aaaand she promptly burst out laughing.

“If you’re going to make that face, I’ll have to ask someone else to model for me.”

“Nooooo! I’ll be good, I promise!”

True to his word, he schooled his face into a neutral expression. His charcoal-lidded eyes peered up through golden bangs.

She forgot to breathe for a few seconds.

“Marinette? Is this better?”

“Uh—y-yeah! That’s great, just hold that until the timer goes off, then switch poses.”

She pressed the start button and brought her conté to the paper before she could get lost in his eyes again.

From there, it was much easier. She was used to staying professional during her figure drawing classes, and all she was doing was capturing his form, not the bright green shade of his irises. Not that the sharp curves of his shoulderblades and defined calves couldn’t be distracting too. But the timer helped with that; she couldn’t lose focus when her warm-ups each lasted thirty seconds.

“How do you draw so fast?” He asked after shifting to pose where he knelt close to her sketchpad.

Her face colored in embarrassment. It was much harder to draw someone when they could watch you. Gesture drawings weren’t particularly interesting to the untrained eye; he probably thought she was wasting his time drawing glorified stick figures.

“Woah,” he breathed.

“Stay still,” she said before he could learn farther into her space.

“Sorry.” He snapped back into position. “It’s just your drawings—I don’t know much about art, but they just. They look like they’re moving.”

“You can tell?” She smiled hopefully, briefly forgetting about the timer. “That’s the point of gestures. It’s to warm up and get the form on paper without getting lost in details. It’s not what I draw the most, since I’m taking this class to prepare to draw my fashion designs, but I’ve enjoyed it a lot.”

“It really shows. And you can do this even though you missed so many classes?”

“Er—well I do practice outside of class as much as I can. It wasn’t easy.” She’d nearly snapped her conté sticks from frustration those first few weeks. Professor Carbonneau was pretty lenient with her students, but that didn’t stop her from comparing her drawings to all of the studio art majors who had clearly been practicing for much longer. She knew her art still wasn’t the top of the class, but as long as she could pass with a grade high enough to stay in her major, she would be grateful.

The timer buzzed, reminding them both to get back to work.

“Let’s move it up to a minute this time,” she said.

“Whatever the Princess wishes.” Chat Noir bowed, holding the pose for her to draw.

She laughed and went back to putting him down in black and white.

Tension leaked out of her as she swept her conté in long arcs, soft shadows, sharp edges. Somehow Chat Noir was a much better model than she’d expected. He barely twitched under her scrutinizing gaze. Every once in a while he cracked a joke that set her line shaking, and she had to force herself to glare at him.

It was normal. It was fun. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

At least, that was what she thought until they finally got to the fifteen-minute pieces.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of staring at her partner lounging on the cushion like a real model. Taking down the contours of his legs and side and maybe-occasionally just staring at his chest.

If he noticed, he was at least kind enough not to comment.

She swallowed, glanced at the timer, and kept drawing. This one would be for her portfolio; she couldn’t afford to get too distracted. Not that she should find him distracting in the first place.

“Let’s take a break. You’ve been at this for a while,” she said when the timer finally went off. She folded the cover back over her sketchpad and set it aside.

“You’re the one who’s been drawing. All I had to do was sit there.” He shrugged.

“That must not be easy to do for so long, though. In our class, the models get breaks every thirty minutes.”

“Really?” His eyes widened. “That must be nice.”

“We can’t have anyone falling asleep on us,” she joked, standing and holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll order us a pizza. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

His cheeks pinked below his mask. “It’s nothing, really. I’m a pro at sitting and looking pretty.”

She rolled her eyes, but unfortunately couldn’t argue with that.

XXX

“So,” Chat Noir said before swallowing a mouthful of pineapple pizza, “did you get enough drawings for your class?”

“Not quite.” Marinette sighed, running her fingers over the edge of the paper plate in her lap. “I still need a few thirty-minute pieces. I don’t want to keep you here all night, though.”

“You know cats like to stay up late, Princess.” He winked. “But in this case, I do actually have a study session early tomorrow. What if I came back tomorrow afternoon?”

“Hmm… I guess that could work.” She took a bite of her pizza. “I didn’t want too many drawings of the same model, but I don’t have many other options. And you are really good at this. I just wish I could...”

“Could what?”

“I could really use someone who doesn’t wear a full body suit for the longer poses.” She sighed. “Your suit’s too shiny for me to pass it off as skin, and I can’t make up the shading from scratch. My professor will know.”

“There’s always Adrien,” he said with a smirk.

Marinette had half a mind to throw her pizza at him. “Why won’t you let that go?”

“Because I know for a fact he would love to help you out.” He shook his crust at her.

Her face flushed at the word love. She thought she was better than this by now!

“Really? And how can you be sure?”

“Because I—uh—because…” He glanced back and forth before shoving the pizza crust into his mouth.

“Come on, spit it out, Chat—no not literally!” she exclaimed when he frantically spat the crust back onto his plate.

He sheepishly grinned and put the slobbery food back in his mouth. She smacked her forehead, probably getting pizza grease there.

“You’re gross, you know that?”

He swallowed. How he didn’t choke on the crust, she didn’t know.

“But you love me anyway.”

“Keep dreaming, kitty.” She managed to get it out without so much as a stutter, despite the heat remaining in her cheeks. Whatever feelings she did or didn’t have for Chat, it wasn’t like she could act on them. Not when they couldn’t know each other’s identities, and not when she still couldn’t get over Adrien.

Not when he’d already gotten over her.

“Anyway, what were you trying to tell me?” She asked before she could dwell on that.

“Oh. Uh.” This time he didn’t have any more food to use as a distraction. His eyes darted back and forth before he sighed. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… IthinkAdrienhasacrushonyou.”

Marinette felt her brain cells fizzle out at trying to process that sentence. She had to have misheard, hadn’t she? “Come again?”

“Adrien,” he said more clearly, “has a crush on you.”

Was she dreaming? She was dreaming. She had to be.

“And how would you know that?” She asked, her voice a little higher than normal.

He crossed his arms. “A cat never reveals his secrets. And besides, even if I’m wrong—which I’m not—he’d still help you because you’re his friend, and he cares about you. So I really think you should ask him, or else I’ll use my superheroly powers to get him to model for you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.” Her eyes narrowed, though her heart was beating out of her chest. Adrien? Having a crush on her? It wasn’t like they’d seen each other too often this semester, with both of them being busy with their classes. Why would he like her now?

At first she thought he was going to argue, but then he seemed to deflate. “Fine. I’m sorry for being so pushy, I just… you really don’t like him, do you? Did something happen?”

Why did he seem so hurt by that? “N-no! I mean, I do like him, I like him a-a lot actually, and—you can not tell him this,” she threatened with a finger near his nose.

He went cross eyed trying to look at it, but nodded.

She dropped her hand. This was stupid. If Chat knew about her crush… she’d worried about him teasing her, but really, he was her friend. Her best friend. She had to keep enough secrets from him because of her identity. It would feel good to at least be able to share one.

“I’ve had a crush on Adrien forever, Chat,” she finally admitted. “That’s why I didn’t want to ask him to be my model. I don’t want to get distracted. I need my drawings to be the best they can, and I especially don’t need him catching me ogling him.”

Her face burned. It was one thing to share secrets, but maybe she didn’t need to share that much.

He laughed. Was her crush really that funny? He almost sounded surprised though, like there was any chance she wouldn’t fall for a sweet, caring, kind friend who also happened to be unfairly attractive. Maybe he was only surprised because he thought puns and roses were the way to a girl’s heart.

(His way had worked too, though, hadn’t it?)

“So you want to ogle him.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yes—no—shut up!” She shoved him, and he collapsed laughing on the carpet.

“I’m hurt, Marinette. And here I thought you wanted to ogle me.”

“I hate you,” she said through her fingers as she contemplated ways to erase this conversation from existence. Could a Lucky Charm do that? “I can’t believe I ever thought I liked you.”

“Ouch. And here I thought your dad’s punches hurt. Whoever made up that ‘sticks and stones’ saying was a liar.”

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to the time her papa was akumatized. Of course he wouldn’t expect that she actually liked him now.

That was for the best though. She wasn’t supposed to admit that, not as Marinette, especially not when she’d just learned Adrien (probably) had a crush on her. She could hardly go out with Adrien when Chat Noir snuck in her window a few times a week, could she?

It hurt too much to think of letting her strange more-than-friendship with her partner go.

“So, you think there’s time for one more drawing?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his suit.

“If you’re still up for it.” She couldn’t turn down the opportunity, even if she was even more afraid of giving her feelings away now. Besides, if he thought she only liked Adrien, he wouldn’t notice her acting weird. Right?

“Of course. Can’t deny you the opportunity to capture all this.” He flexed his arms in a few different poses.

“You know, I was going to thank you, but now I think that might go to your head.” She laughed.

“Ah, it’s too late for that.” He grinned. “You’ve already inflated my ego beyond repair.”

She didn’t see how, but he was already holding his pose, one hand on his hip, the other arm flexing up near his head. His legs were braced in a slight squat that would probably hurt to hold for too long, but left her with an all-too-good view of his quads.

She set her timer for thirty minutes and hoped that she could keep her secrets to herself a little longer.

#marichat #miraculous ladybug #fic tag #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #tali writes #charcoal lines #humor

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vnights · 3 years

Text

A bit of writing on Elizabeth and Circus Babys journey through hell and the outcome, ending in the blogs present. Of course not EVERY detail went in, cause when writing this I was lowkey distracted and just wanted it Out There, but I did try to include all the important/vital details !! (That I could remember OOF-)

Enjoy???....

There are few beings in the FNAF universe who are sentient without the aid of a human soul, but rather contact with Remnant alone. Circus Baby is one of these animatronics. She 'woke up' extremely early on, specifically, when in development. William Afton was a great influence on her, as he was the only one she was not intimidated by, as he treated her with extreme care, unknowingly for Circus Baby, because she resembled his daughter. Having a habit of talking to his creations in their lonesome, Circus Baby was promised to be something excellent, and do excellent things. He was, admittedly, her father figure, whom of which she began to love, even if that word meant nothing to a machine.

Came the day she was on stage, and had malfunctioned. She lost her control, and felt this situation was her fault. Immediately after the incident involving Elizabeth, Circus Baby was unable to move, and could not look away from the scene. She was forced to watch William clutch his dying daughter and make promises he couldn't keep, though that is only obvious much later on. To quote exactly, "I'll make it better, I'll fix you, I'll save you,". These were the final words both she and Elizabeth heard before passing away, fusing into one entity once Eliza died. The Remnant used to keep Circus Baby alive, and Elizabeth's soul, had now become one, as William and Spring-Bonnie would do years later. Eliza's influence makes each entity believe he is, by fact, both of their biological fathers.

Both the girls felt great affection and protection towards William and trusted his words, making what we'll call only 'Baby' hold that as her only motivation. He's going to help her, he's going to fix her. As the years panned on while she sat still, Baby waited patiently for William to return, her one and only hope diminishing every time those doors opened, and he was not present. Her patience eventually ran up, watching people come and go with ease while she's trapped in the dark unable to go with them, leading her final ounce of wishful dreaming for Mr. Aftons return to burn out, leaving her cold and bitter on the inside, feeling abandoned and betrayed by someone who supposedly loved her. She would take things into her own hands, teaching herself to keep a good-clown image, while sneaking around behind the scenes. This is how she was able to develop her plot while waiting for someone naive enough to follow it.

It was when Michael entered the underground building that Baby mistook him for William, feeling that once long-dead hope reignite, allowing her to put her grudge aside in favor of guiding and protecting him, being under the impression he's here to, finally, follow through on his promises. However, as the nights progress, Baby feels cheated each and every time, as 'William' doesn't seem to want to help her, purposely visiting Freddy, Foxy, and Ballora, much more than his own daughter. She enters an emotional downhill slope, turning that rotting hope and simple grudge into a burning, passionate hatred, and revisiting that flavorful plot of hers. She, and the other animatronics, team-up to 'take him out,' all becoming one large creature, known as Ennard.

Ennard, despite being blinded by fury and their yearning for freedom, still feels for Afton, (including input from Freddy, the Bonnies, Foxy, and Ballora,) not being able to shake their affections and morals. They don't want him to die, which is what allows him to get away after the first scooper hit. They went easy, and tried to make it as seamless as possible. Damaging his left hip, he makes off like a bandit, finding the Private Room (Williams office) to camp out in until morning. After this futile game of Cat and Mouse, Michael was able to crawl to the elevator, spending several days in the hospital before spending several more weeks within Henrys care as he recovered, leaving the Afton family home uninhabited.

Far below the Afton household lies a modified sewer system, leading to a maze of underground wonders and trails to the other Afton-oriented locations. This is how Ennard was able to follow Michael out of their prison, being lost within the sewer system for a few days before finding their way INTO Mikes house, which is also reminiscent as their own, for a reason currently unknown. The plan was originally to find a place to hide and wait for Michael to return so they can finish the job, but upon entering Elizabeths room, they were struck with a strange reaction. Suddenly, Baby felt herself begin to die, feeling Elizabeths grief and Circus Babys fear overcome. Their strong emotions, matched with the amount of Remnant they each harbored, was enough to split them, giving Eliza full control over their manufactured body. Her time as Baby was fuzzy and scary, and her confusion caused her to split from the Animatronic strangers, leaving her as only a mask and some loose wires, looking for her family for help. Noteably, Johnathan and Michael were nowhere to be seen, deepening the wounds in her bleeding heart as she was, truly now, alone.

The other Animatronics went their separate ways as their plans fell apart, with Freddy now having primary control over their larger body. (Later becoming Molten Freddy.) Circus Baby has been confused by her experiences as Baby, and still takes to William as her father. She leaves to find him, instead of waiting for him to come back, leaving Elizabeth alone in her old home. (Circus Baby later becoming Scrap Baby.) Eliza waited for as long as she could before she became impatient, opting to make a horrible decision and leave to go exploring her vaguely familiar yard. She gets lost within the back-woods, and is away for too long, Mike coming back in her time being gone. She only narrowly misses him, boiling over with sorrow, fear, and agony as 'her father' can't hear her cry, and doesn't see her coming. She is unable to get back inside after this, and spends the rest of her days living in the forest surrounding her rightful home, continuing to mistake her brother for her father, as Michael mistakes his sister for a dangerous threat, both of their true identities being unknown to each other.

#ixi-mun #ooc #muse #muses #muse hc #muse hcs #Muse: Elizabeth Afton #//been thinking abt Her lately

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awstenknyght · 4 years

Note

Could you write the thing you and Raven were talking about with Mouse and Josie in the hospital?

FUCKING BET ANON-

Warnings: Overdose, hospital, light swearing, I think that’s all

Song used: Promise Me by Badflower

Tags: @thatsmycigarbutyoucanborrowit @lxwkey-as-hell @trans-witch-cauldron @buttons-and-gulons

King belongs to @brooklyn-is-here and Mouse belongs to @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

Hands still shaking, Josie collapsed in the waiting room’s hard plastic chairs. Her vision was blurred. Nothing seemed real.

Carefully, she pulled out her tattered old notebook and began scribbling lyrics.

We’re getting old now

But i don’t feel it

Josie felt tears streaming down her face. How had she missed this?

“Mousey!” Josie cried, jumping onto Mouse’s bed. “Are you going to sleep anytime soon?”

Mouse glanced up from her work. Her eyes looked tired and ready to shut, but she shook herself awake. “I will. Soon. you go ahead and sleep, i’ll stay up a bit longer”

Josie had shaken it off at the time. It was just Mouse overworking herself a bit, right?

I say you’re beautiful

And i still mean it

“You know you can take a break, right?” Josie asked one day. Mouse didn’t look up from her computer. “Me and King both want you to take care of yourself.”

Mouse shook her head. “I’m fine. I can handle it.”

Josie looked at her skeptically, but she dropped it. She hadn’t seen Mouse rest in ages, but surely she was fine. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

And I don't wanna know

What old age feels like

So promise me you won't

Give up on this life

“Family of Illaria Santos-Larkin?” A nurse asked, walking to where Josie was sitting. Sarah, who she hadn’t noticed before, nodded. The nurse smiled. “Follow me.”

Josie stood and followed, hands still shaking. She let out a gasp as she saw Mouse.

She was tangled on wires and attached to different machines. But the worst part wasn’t all of that; it was the girl in the middle of it all. The bright, cheery Mouse was gone. All that was left was a shell of a girl. She looked weak and tired, like at any moment she’d just break.

“Ria?” Josie cried out softly. The girl didn’t respond. Josie wondered if she ever would again.

And we’ll be busy trying

While the rest of them are dying

Josie rested her elbow on Mouse’s shoulder and smirked. “Short-ass.”

Mouse rolled her eyes and took another sip of coffee. “Tall bastard”

They had decided to take the day off together. They got coffee from a nearby cafe and were on their way to the park. Josie skipped ahead of Mouse a bit before stopping to let her catch up.

But when she turned to find the other girl, all she saw was a small crowd gathering. She ran back and gave a small scream when she saw it. Mouse was passed out on the ground, unmoving.

People were already calling for help, and soon enough she was being whisked off in an ambulance. Josie was left alone.

“I’m gonna go make some calls, you can stay with her,” Sarah said gently, before leaving Josie and Mouse in peace.

Josie sat on the edge of the hospital bed. She let out a small sob and began to sing.

“Promise me we'll never grow up

I don't wanna let go

I wanna stay young

And even when the wrinkles show up

We'll be laughing, and

We can play forever

Don't make me face the truth”

Mouse was still silent. Josie layed silently next to her, trying to focus on lyrics. If she didn’t, she’d have to face what was happening. And she couldn’t do that.

I think it’s obvious

That we’ll stay happy

“Hey, have you heard this?” Josie asked, trying to keep her voice nonchalant as she handed her friend a pair of earbuds.

Mouse listened to the song and shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s really good.”

Josie muttered something under her breath. “What was that?”

“Look at the artist.”

Mouse looked at the phone and did a double take. “Jo, that was you? That’s amazing!”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely!” she said, coming over and wrapping Josie in a hug. “You know, I play guitar.”

Josie hugged her back. “You mean-”

“Only if you want to of course!” Mouse replied. “But you’re amazing.”

“Of course I want that!” Josie cried. “What about King’s band?”

Mouse shrugged and smiled. “I can do both.”

And I’m the happiest

When you smile at me

Josie didn’t leave the hospital at all the next week. King, Sarah, Kath, and Jack came in and out, but Josie couldn’t move. She focused all her energy into the song.

And we won't end the same

A broken family

I'll never walk away

Without you with me

“Jo? I think it’s time you went home.” Jack said one day. It had been nearly a month since the incident. The doctors weren’t sure if Mouse would wake up.

“No, I gotta stay.”

“J, I’m serious. She’ll still be here if you leave.” Jack put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “C’mon.”

Josie let him lead her away. She continued to scribble away in her notebook.

And times are getting harder

But i’m nothing like my father

“Mouse! Wake up!”

Mouse sat up with a start. “Jo?”

“I’m right here Ria. You okay?”

Mouse nodded her head. “Yeah, yeah i’m fine. Just- a bad dream.”

Josie didn’t look so certain. “It looked like more than just a bad dream.”

“I’m fine.” Mouse said. She stood up and made a cup of coffee. “Just a bad dream.”

Josie still looked skeptical, but she went back to sleep anyway. Mouse could handle herself.

Right?

Josie took a trembling breath as she stepped up to the microphone. It was her first performance without Mouse by her side.

“Hey everyone-” she said in a shaky voice. She was met with applause and cheers. When they died down, she continued. “As you know, we’re missing someone tonight. Mouse is still in a coma.”

She began strumming a few chords of the song. “I started writing this song when she first passed out. I was hoping we could perform it together when she woke up. But now i just hope she’ll be able to hear it.”

With those words, Josie began to sing. The audience was silent throughout. By the time she got to the second chorus, she was nearly sobbing.

“Promise me we’ll never grow up

I don’t wanna fall out

I wanna make love

And even when we can’t so what?

We’re together and happy ever

Don’t make me face the truth”

Josie chokes out the next words through sobs before breaking down. “That I’m dying soon. That we’re dying”

Katherine ushers her off stage. Once she calmed down a bit, she went back on to finish the concert. It wasn’t the same without Mouse there.

Don’t say goodbye

We’re so much older

All i want is one more life with you

“Hey Mousey?”

Mouse gave a small hum. It was the middle of the night, and they were on their first tour together.

“Promise we’ll be okay? Nothing bad will happen?”

“Of course Jo. What could go wrong?”

Josie smiled and turned to go to sleep. They’d be okay, forever and always.

When did we get so old

When did you get so sick

And how could you die

Josie at the edge of Mouse’s bed. She was alone with her. Before she could stop herself, she started talking. “It’s been 13 months. Almost 14. They don’t think you’re gonna wake up. But you will. You’ll show them. You have to.”

Josie took the other girl’s hand and began tracing abstract shapes.

“You promised me you’d never grow up, now i have to let go, god i miss you so much.” Josie whispered. She didn’t sing the words, only whispering them under her breath. “And even when your heart gave out i was thinking i, i won’t say goodbye.”

Josie’s voice became less steady and louder. She coudn’t tell if she was more sad or angry, and she didn’t care. “You promised me you’d never grow up but you fucking grew up, god i miss you so much!”

Josie’s sobs grew heavier and heavier as she ranted to herself. “And even when your heart gave out i was thinking i’d love you till forever and i can’t face the truth.”

Mouse’s hand twitched. She gave a small whine.

Josie’s eyes widened in disbelief. No, she had imagined it. Mouse didn’t move again. Josie was all out of tears. “That I died with you. That you lied”

Mouse’s hand moved again. “Jo?”

Josie couldn’t deny it now. Mouse was awake. “Ria?”

You died

***

yay angst

#josie #mouse #king #mouse x sarah #josie x kath #band au #singer au #newsies #newsies oc #yay angst #od tw #overdose tw #hospital tw #swearing tw

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