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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months

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Alastor x Reader Chapter 3

Whiskey Cake and Beignets

TW: Death, Racism, Misogyny, Murder, Violence, Sexual Themes, Domestic Violence, Abuse, AFAB Reader Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Edited by @willowaudreykeyes

Set in the 1920s, the reader is a young intern at the new hit broadcasting studio in New Orleans. She originally came from a small town in Texas, so she has a thick southern drawl and a personality that drips like honey. She left home due to her more liberal views compared to her family. Because of this, she seeks out the first job that would take a female: an assistant to the new hit voice in New Orleans.

Alastor is put off by the overly sweet southern girl, expecting that when she is alone with him, her distaste for his skin color will come out. However, it never does. As they have wacky mishaps, murder, and love, they intertwine their fates in life and especially in death.

Waking up at four am was not your ideal thought of a good time; however, working and paying back your dues was far more important than the comfort of your bed. With a defeated sigh, you climbed out of bed and looked at the still-dark sky. Whoever wants to listen to the radio this early must be insane—strolling to the bathroom and getting ready for the day you put on your makeup and fix up your hair. You made breakfast while your hair sat in its rollers and picked out your outfit. You chose a scarlet dress that would compliment Alastor only because you were his assistant, and you wanted to feel cohesive, even if he was going to be a prick about it. Once you had finished your morning routine, you went to the bathroom one last time to finish your hair and do a once over. Hopefully today, you aren’t haunted by the scared little girl or broken teenager like yesterday.

However, when you looked in the mirror, you almost screamed in fright, as you could have sworn you had seen a shadow behind you that wasn’t your own. It must have just been a trick of the lights or your tired eyes messing with you because when you blinked, it was just you and your shadow standing there. Shaking your head and exiting the bathroom, you made your way over to the front door. Sliding on the shoes you discarded last night and grabbing your purse, you went to the radio building just after locking your door.

New Orleans had a beautiful morning chill; the water was not yet hot from the sun’s beating rays, and the sky was dotted with stars. It was early enough that the drunks and other exciting characters would be hiding away, but it was still late enough that even the sun hadn’t graced you with its presence. As you walked, you felt something warm on your thigh again. Sticking your hand in your pocket, the pendent the older woman gave you lay there. You stalled, shocked and confused; you didn’t remember grabbing the pendent, hell till this very moment, you had forgotten it existed, so how? How did it end up in your pocket again, and why is it warm? The more you stood and thought about the possibilities, the more you noticed that the once cool silver metal began to turn warmer black. Assuming this was its way of warning, you shoved it back in your pocket and continued your trek to the studio.

Standing outside, you recheck your wristwatch; it was fifteen past, and no soul was there. You had tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. You were beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this. What if Alastor kept his word, and you should be afraid of him? Shaking your head at the ludicrous idea, you waited a little longer. Leaning on the wall by the door, you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of the street and winds. It was calming, almost tranquil; something so sweet yet sinister in the air like a battle between good and evil ragged here alone in New Orleans and nowhere else. Well, maybe this battle was elsewhere, but it felt different, personal even here.

You were startled out of your trance by heel clicks. Opening your eyes, you saw Valarie walking down the street with Richard right next to her. You offered the two a soft smile and gentle wave as you stood straight again. When Valarie could fully see you, her eyes lit up like Christmas as she spoke, “Oh goodness, you are here! We were taking bets on if Al had scared you off yet! Oh, this is so exciting. I have always wanted another woman to work with, and Tony is one of the most progressive men allowing women workers, even if he sounds like an ass.”

You snorted at her comment and smiled wider, watching her fight the door open with her keys. She discussed how she needed to ensure you got a key today before you left. Looking around the office, there was something scenic about how lonely it looked when all the bodies weren’t running around. You saw Richard start setting up the back radio booth, and Valarie began handing you paperwork to fill out.

“You know my Daddy is hosting a soiree tonight, I bet he wouldn’t mind if I invited a few more people. You should come! We can make it your first real event here in Nawlins’!” You smiled and accepted her kind invitation. What was the worst that could happen? Once all was said and done, you had successfully signed up for this ride at the Bayou’s Best Radio station. It was sitting at 6 am. You looked at Valarie, confused, as no one else had shown up yet. As you pieced this together. However, a sharp chill ran up your spine while your thigh warmed once more where the pendant sat. As you looked around, panicked, the front door opened.

Turning to look with Valarie, you saw Alastor standing there. He looked more put together than ever, so he must slowly become more relaxed throughout the day. He wore a well-tailored pinstripe crimson suit, a brown suit vest, and a white button below it. His brown slacks fit him nicely, and the brown loafers topped it off. Looking back at him, he had his hair slicked back; you noted he looked more attractive when his hair was curly and messy. However, this wasn’t a bad look. However, he looked forced, almost misplaced, like he was trying to fit in too hard. You got that impression more from Richard than anything; after his outfit yesterday, you were positive he was trying to imitate Alastor.

As Alastor walked through the room, he completely ignored you, heading straight for the room that Richard was setting up. You figured he would do anything to make you uncomfortable, and that did not exclude being a toddler. You stood and followed him; Richard kept the door open for you, though it was clear Alastor had tried to slam it in your face. Taking a seat where Richard instructed you, he went over the basics of the studio room. “Every morning, I will get here bright and early with Val; I will set up Alastor’s room ‘cause he is particular. Hopefully, soon you can pick it up and set it up for him,” You nodded along when a cold, displeased voice cut in.

“Not likely that she will be competent enough.” You huffed, glaring at Alastor. He was standing in the room with you two, reading over his script for the day. You looked back at Richard, who was caught off guard by Alastors hostility. He turned back to you, choked out a laugh, and continued.

“Anyway, Y/N, as I was saying, I will set this up for now, making your job much easier. Besides getting Alastor food and drink and keeping up with his schedule, you must handle the main broadcast and recording times.” He smiled warmly and pointed at Valarie’s scribbled paper for you. “See, here at 7 am will be the morning broadcast; you will press this green-painted switch to start the live feed. Alastor will talk and do his morning routine, and then at 8 am, or when Alastor finishes, you will flip it again, ending the live feed. Alastor, over there on his side of the desk, will control the music and sounds. You just choose when it is live.” You looked bewildered by this type of technology. You honestly had no idea how radios worked till well now.

Looking up at Richard, you spoke softly, “So how do we get the music and stuff? Al talks in here, but I thought there was supposed to be a band that played music for us?” You felt sheepish when Richard laughed at you softly. However, he was kind and diligent in his explanation. Alastor’s switches would signal the crew in another room that it was time for music, allowing them to signal the playing. Some songs were even played on phonographs next to a microphone. The switch you controlled was purely for the show’s live and ‘dead’ feature.

He then explained to you how the next switch that was your priority worked. The one that was painted red would be flipped for recording. Between the morning and lunch broadcast, Alastor would record his night special, and between lunch and the end of the day, Alastor recorded his late-night special. You thought it was odd how, after about four or five, you would hear Alastor all over the radios but see him out on the street. It was because they had a group of interns that would stay from closing till one in the morning to play the phonograph recordings you all made earlier in the day, then wipe them and get them ready for today.

It was nearly seven when Richard finished his pep talk and explanations; once he was done, he started walking to the door. He turned, looked at Alastor, and whispered something in his ear before giving you a fair smile and closing the door behind him as he left. You and Alastor are now in this room; the tension is thick and could be cut with a knife. You reviewed the schedule again, preparing for the first onslaught of radio hosting. Once you were done and looked up, Alastor was staring right at you; there were only five minutes till everything began.

“Do not mess this up, or I really will make your life a living hell; I worked hard to end up here no matter what anyone tells you,” Alastor said with venom and ferocity. You would think you had already messed up big time. Nodding gently, you noted how close it was to starting. Counting down the seconds, then signaling Alastor, you flipped the ‘live’ switch.

“Good Morning, Nawlins. It is a pleasure to be back with you. I hope you don’t miss my voice too much. Our Dear Radio Host is back this morning to give you the sweet news and good tunes. Up on the docket today, we will discuss the segregation acts being looked at by our mayor today and look into those of rich history in our hearts. Nawlins’ sit back, relax, and enjoy a coffee before you start your workday with me. Listen to our live band as we welcome you this fine morning.” You were in awe at how Alastor spoke; he was so different. Hearing him in person and not through a radio was fascinating, too. He flipped his switches, and the band began playing, you assume, from the other room.

Richard explained that there was a pully-like system where the switches would set off some sign that would ring bells in the other room, signifying it was time to play the music. The time of day depended on whether the music was phonographed or live. You continued sitting there and watching Alastor talk for an hour before even joining in singing more music. As he spoke about the live band and gave them credits, he motioned for you to end the ‘live’ feed. Flipping your switch, it was quiet in your room once more. No words had to be said at this moment. You were in awe of him and his performance while he harbored only strong disdain for you.

Like clockwork, Alastor stood shedding his jacket and loosening his tie; your theory that he got more relaxed throughout the day proved true. Wordlessly, he went to the primary office. You stood to follow, wanting to exclaim that he was supposed to ask you if he needed anything. However, as you popped your head out, he was long gone. You sighed and threw your arms in the air, making sure the schedule was still being followed. Anger consumed you at the fact Alastor was choosing to be such a prick; what was his deal, his game? Did he expect you to be some princess, lay down, and take this treatment? You grew up with an entitled father. There was no way he was scaring you or making you quit.

Tony popped his head in to see you mumbling, “Hey kid, keep that up, and it's the looney bin for you. I just wanted to check in and see how Al was doing; he can be a handful.” You shrugged and sighed.

“It is fine. I understand the basics; however, mister I’m independent up and left without me, so I have no idea what he is doing. He probably wants to royally fuck me over; shit, sorry, damn it. Look, I didn’t mean,” Tony was laughing his head off. Not only did you expect him to be mad that you swore at work you also heavily expected him to be furious as you were a woman swearing so freely.

“Kid, I grow to like choosing you more and more as the hours pass. You have grit, and that is needed in today’s turning edge. Al is just outside smoking; he does so after every live broadcast, and when work is over, when you girls head home, we men hit the gentlemen's club. It’s his way of winding down.” You nodded at Tony’s words. You were happy Tony wasn’t mad at you for losing Alastor already. Looking around, you dropped into your seat and held your head up with your elbows propped up on the table.

“Tony, if Alastor has to hide his identity so much, why did you even give him this job in the first place? Seems more like a hassle for you all, including him, than it is worth.” Tony sighed and nodded, walking into the room and taking where Alastor once sat. He crossed his legs and thought before he spoke.

“Y/N, it is complicated; I can’t go into great detail as it is not my place. However, Alastor’s father was murdered; his father was also my best friend. As a child, Al dreamed of being a star; as he got older and radio became more popular, he morphed that dream into a radio host. I started this business when Nawlins needed a new voice and face. At first, it would be my son Richard; however, he isn’t one for the spotlight, and our sales did horribly. As a favor, I let Alastor host a late-night show. He had to speak properly and act white, though. He was such a big hit that I offered him more positions as time passed. Now, he is the voice of our whole operation. Yes, I have three other goons in there doing the same thing, but my money comes from the ambiguity of Alastor. Most people assume he is white; however, some have speculated he is mixed. I won't let anyone know, though, as protection for him, us, and even you, kid.” You listened intently. That was a lot to take in, but how this all came to be made more sense.

Alastor’s father was murdered, and if Rika was right, it only happened a few years ago. The wounds must still be fresh from his father’s absence. You remembered your father once talking about how men filling their father’s shoes was the most challenging thing for any man to accomplish. Could that be why Al was so hostile? Because he was filling those shoes too soon. You went to speak to Tony again as Alastor walked in. He gently kicked Tony’s chair and smiled at him before looking at you and rolling his eyes.

“Why are you here? I wouldn’t say I like it when you mess up my equipment. Last time, it took Richard a day to alter your mistakes.” Alastor sounded so different talking to everyone else; there was still that bitter edge, but not what he used against you. What made you so different? You watched the interaction as the two men talked and spoke to one another. Once Tony was done and left, closing the door. It was a dim silence in the once cheery room. Sighing, you got the recording section set up and looked at Alastor. On your countdown, you flipped the switch, and the recording began.

Sitting in that room for all those hours made you realize a few things. One Alastor was a hard worker and took his job seriously. Two Alastor was pragmatic and full of so much life, yet it almost seemed fake. Three Alastor on the radio was a polished version of Alastor in his day to day life it seemed. By the time the final recording was over and all the equipment was being moved around for the next crew, Alastor had unbuttoned his vest, undid the top two buttons of his shirt, and his sleeves were rolled up. His hair was wispy and curly, and his face was framed well. If he weren’t such an asshole, you would swoon right then and there. However, you knew the real Alastor underneath the facade.

Standing from your chair, you made your way to the door, head low; the pay here was good, so you would deal with Alastors snide remarks if it meant living. As you tried to bypass said man, your arm was grabbed from behind you. Turning to yank your arm away, you were met with Alastor holding your wrist gently. He looked at you with something akin to curiosity in his framed eyes. You pulled your arm away, remembering you were still in the middle of your work office, and fixed yourself.

“Yes, Alastor, what is it? Did I do something wrong again?” He just stared at you; as you two looked at one another, the last few stragglers of the day had exited the office. Tony, Richard, and Valarie are waiting by the door outside for you and Al to join. The silence was almost deafening as he observed your face and features. Did you look bad or smell bad? What was happening to make this even possible? He put some much-desired space between you two and cleared his throat gently.

“I apologize. I just saw something.” He stood at his full height, his suit jacket in his hand hanging over his shoulder. “I wanted to say you are peculiar. Tony has hired many interns to help me, all leaving within a day if not less of working with me. Saying I scare them, gave them the chills. Follow them. Yet you seem not to have those complaints. Why?”

You looked at him incredulously; what an odd thing to remotely say to someone. Looking back at the waiting group, then at Alastor, you shook your head. “Alastor, I am not afraid of you. Yes, you are careless and harmful with your words, but after the life I have lived, no man's harsh words will scare me. I do not judge people based on religion, race, or standings. I judge people based on the person who presents to me face to face. With that said, Alastor, I am not afraid of you or by you. I can hold my own. If you will excuse me, Valarie would like to take me to a formal event tonight while I believe you have a gentlemen’s club to attend.” You briskly walked away from him, the heat radiating from your dress pocket once again.

Once outside, the pendent calmed, and you and Valarie said your goodbyes to the boys. Walking arm in arm, you stopped at your apartment real quick. Touching up your makeup and changing your dress to something more appropriate for a night on the town, you listened to Valarie’s ideas about decorating your new apartment. While she was speaking, a knock was heard at your door. Leaving the bathroom, you and Valarie opened it to find Rika waiting there.

“Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you had company; I was checking in on you.” She looked behind you, seeing Valarie, her eyes going wide. Valarie smiled and waved at Rika, and motioned her to come in.

“Come in, come in—the more, the merrier! We are going to an event hosted by my dad tonight! Any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine; please join us!” Valarie was bubbly, and it was clear Rika was shocked or overwhelmed. Excusing yourselves, you dragged Rika to the bathroom while Valarie continued with her decorating scheme.

“What is wrong with you, Rika? Why the bug eyes at Val?” You questioned her quietly while you put on the last touches of makeup.

“You do know who that is. She is the richest girl from the richest family in Nawlins,’ and you just so happen to be her friend?” Rika seemed impressed and honestly star-struck. You laughed gently and leaned on the counter.

“Yes, Rika, I am aware of Valarie's lifestyle. She is a good friend, though she works at the Radio Studio with me.” A long, dramatic pause and a considerable smile pulled on Rika’s lips at your words. She started slapping your arm and screaming.

“You are telling me you, Y/N, work at Bayou’s Best Radio with Valarie and Alastor?” You nodded along with her words and jumped for joy. You laughed and pulled her in for a hug. Valarie came around the corner and smiled with you two. Joining in, all of you crowded around the small mirror, picking out clothes, make-up, and hair for this event.

As you three walked to the society event on the other side of town, Valarie explained everything about her home and family. “Yes, Daddy is running for mayor again this year; he is livid about that segregation bill, and Momma isn’t a fan of it either. Our staff in the mansion are of all races; all are paid equally and fairly treated; if one person steps out of line towards any of our other race workers, Daddy has them removed immediately. If only other places had the same ideas here in Nawlins’. Daddy’s biggest competition is that rat Matthews, who is all for the segregation clauses.” You frowned at that. To think someone as progressive and kind as Valarie’s family was even remotely competing with someone like Matthews was horrible. You sighed and shook your head.

“It is still far better than where I come from; my father was a mean old man who hated me even talking to people of another race or religion. His word was as good as gold in our tiny town, and I watched many friends I made get sent to other towns for safety or mobbed. I hope never to see that happen here in New Orleans.” The two girls frown and then laugh at your pronunciation. You had been working on your southern accent, ingrained in you for years. Rolling your eyes, you smile at the girls and reach the large mansion.

Once inside, you were blinded by the sparkles and golden glow. Valarie lived in this? Walking in slowly was like a fairytale. Why would Valarie ever work at the radio station? You knew she was intelligent and witty, for sure. But this was life. Rika, Valarie and you made your way to the drink table. Three dapper-dressed gentlemen walked up to you as you stood there: Tony, Richard, and Alastor.

“I thought you guys said you couldn’t come! That the gentlemen's club was more important!” Valarie was so excited and bright about the boys taking her invite. You were under the impression this was a female soiree, yet here you were in the middle of a grand party with your whole crew of coworkers and of course Alastor there before you.

“Oh, you know we were going to dip out; however, Alastor convinced dear pops to drag us along. Seeing as your father supports our business and all,” Richard looked so much better in blue; it was apparent his mother dressed him for this occasion, and he matched with Valarie a lot better, too. That is when you felt it Rikas elbow in your side.

“You and him match. When would you tell me that you two were a thing already?” You looked at Rika confused, but she was right when you turned back to Alastor you were in awe. You two wore dark green outfits, something you never expected to see on Alastor. He seemed more of the red type, yet he was wearing your color, which you seemed to always gravitate toward. Shaking your head, you pushed Rika gently.

“As if! It was merely a coincidence that we match, I haven’t even told you half the torture that man has put me through,” even at your statements, Rika just wiggled her eyebrows at you, making you smile and laugh. Looking back at Alastor, you could have sworn you saw a genuine smile flashing across his poker face. You looked up at him, confused, as some lively swing music began to play. You watched Tony bow and ask Rika for a dance with a smile on her face; watching Tony not be a jerk about race was sweet; he cared about keeping Alastor and his son's dreams alive. Richard took Valerie’s hand, pulling her into the crowd to dance. You smiled and clapped your hands, watching; the only dances you knew were line dances and slow waltz from when your mom put you in cotillion balls. However, a hand landed on the small part of your back from the one and only Alastor.

“This doesn’t mean anything, but if you are to survive here with our kind of people, you will need to learn to eat a little spice and dance to a good swing,” He looked down at you with a cunning smile. You began shaking your head in protest, but it was too late. He slowly pulled you out to the middle of the room and showed you how to dance. Caving in and following his lead, you soon found this to be no different than what you learned in classes, just a little faster and messier. You laughed and held on, letting Alastor swing you around.

As the song ended, everyone cheered and moved to the side while getting food and drink. Valarie and Richard caught up to you and Al as you approached Tony and Rika. “Miss Y/N, your friend here sure is something; she can dance like no tomorrow,” the group laughed and conversed quietly. You sighed, content when you felt the chill up your spine, turning quickly. No one was there, just a wall, then your pocket heated up again. Looking down at your leg, you pulled Rika aside, not noticing the lingering eyes on you.

Once you were far away, you looked around and held Rika firmly on her shoulders. “I need to show you something, and I need you not to think I am crazy.” Rika tilted her head at you, laughing softly, when she realized how serious you were. She nodded, and you pulled out the pendant from your pocket. Rika gasped, shoving it back in your pocket and pulling you to an empty hallway where no one was. She pulled the pendent back out and examined it; the warm black metal slowly returned to silver. Rika looked at the item, then at you.

“Where did it come from? I need you to be honest with me, Y/N.” You looked at her worriedly. In as few sentences as possible, you explained the disappearing lady and the chill and heat. Rika just nodded and looked at the engravings before placing it around your neck. You looked at her awkwardly, going to take it off, but the necklace shifted into a dainty silver chain with a green emerald in the center.

“What is- huh? I mean that just- huh,” Rika shushed you and tried to calm you down. Once you were no longer panicking, she looked you dead in the eyes.

“Y/N, you have a spirit protecting you, which one it is I can not say right now; voodoo is dangerous for people to get mixed up in; you must be one with it. You are positive that you didn’t do anything, that this spirit told you something was after you and you didn’t dabble at all?” You nodded, frightened. Swallowing thickly, she paced back and forth; she sighed and looked you over.

“Wear it and don’t take it off; it won’t burn you, just whatever is attacking you. The reason you could feel that cold chill was because you were only half using the damn thing. You are in danger. My fiance will know more. I will get back to you soon on what is going on. Just please be safe and stick close to people.” You sighed and hugged Rika.

You were terrified but glad you chose the right person to go to. Pulling away, you heard the party roar, and you two snuck back in. Eyes from a shadow followed you, though unable to get close any longer. Down the hall, Alastor stood, the shadow now playing around him. He sucked in his teeth, watching you dance and sing with your friends. You were a threat to his operation and his goals. He needed to work alone to cleanse the world of this sin.

You were far too pure and good to be a part of any of that; he had hoped Richard would take a liking to you; sadly, Valarie and his secret relationship came to his attention. Then he hopped to scare you off, yet that damn Papa Legba must have sent the spirit to guide you. You were protected now, and he was stuck with you in his immediate bubble. You were a thorn in his side; you may not be like all the other racist pigs, but you had something hidden in you. No one is that pure and lives this long.

* * *

Taglist: @pan-to-the-head @wendds @satansdaughter123 @mook14 @xalygatorx @psychesetra @dumbslvt101thebasics @n0tmentallystable @speedycoffeedelight @fokrilove

Thank you for reading <3

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lavendercharm · 7 months

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Linger, Chapter 5: Kiss With A Fist/Human Nature

A/N:

Ya'll. Writing this chapter felt like a marathon. But I think I'm ultimately very happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

This chapter is a bit longer, and I think it deserved to be named after two songs because of that. "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine definitely fits the first half of this chapter and was one of the first songs I added to my playlist when writing this story, so I knew I wanted to use it for the big public confrontation.

The vibes toward the end are different. I discovered this song earlier this week and haven't been able to stop listening to it, so maybe I'm just reaching to try and justify including it lol. But "Human Nature" by Barrie is what I decided to use for the second half of this. Cause they're spitting facts when they say "Human nature doesn't always come easy" lmfao.

This is far from the end of this story, but it may be a second before you hear from me, depending on how busy the next few weeks are. I say that - watch me turn around and post something this weekend lol.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. I love you and I'm so grateful to know you're along for the ride.

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Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

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Barbara Howard did not take days off. It was only recently that she allowed herself her first mental health day, and while she could see the benefits, she had been eager to get back to her classroom, her students, her best friend, and even her coworkers. The life of a teacher was unpredictable, and the life of a teacher at Abbott Elementary came with its own unique set of challenges, but Barbara had seen a lot in her decades of teaching. With some hard work, support from her fellow teachers, and the grace of God himself, she had seen and survived it all. Barbara Howard could conquer anything thrown her way.

However, if Barbara had the magical gift of foresight, she might have chosen Monday morning to take her second mental health day in her entire history at Abbott.

As it was, Barbara could not see into the future, and so she entered the teacher’s lounge at 6:30 AM, on the dot. She claimed her usual spot, made herself a cup of coffee, and began sorting through her lesson plans for the week. She enjoyed her few moments of serenity in the lounge prior to the arrival of her more talkative coworkers. It wasn’t unusual for Melissa to arrive a bit later, especially on a Monday, so Barbara thought nothing of her absence. She politely greeted Janine and Jacob as they entered together; she did the same for Gregory shortly after. As the three younger teachers gathered at their table and discussed their weekends, Barbara continued her work, occasionally reacting to what she overheard. And when you entered the lounge, your first time visiting in the morning, Barbara was mildly surprised, but she shot you a warm smile all the same. She noticed you seemed to be a bit tense, but she chalked it up to the fact that you were still very new.

Melissa had talked her ear off about you last Monday, of course, explaining your tardiness and the shots you’d taken at her about her age. When Barb pressed her for details about your confrontation and what you’d said to each other, she simply said, “I took care of business, a’right?”

While Barbara agreed it was unprofessional of you to arrive late, she also knew Melissa better than anyone else in Abbott did; she knew Melissa could take things too far. Melissa was as passionate as they came, which meant she was one of the best teachers at the school. On the flip side, she also had a short fuse. Barbara knew she didn’t have all of the details, but she didn’t think much of it - you were a sub, after all. She expected she’d never actually meet you.

So when you arrived in the lounge for lunch the day after your explosive argument, she was shocked. While skeptical of you, she couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. You’d come face to face with the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti and still returned to Abbott. You’d introduced yourself, and as far as Barbara could tell, you were perfectly polite and well mannered. The displeasure and hostility radiating off of Melissa was felt by everyone in the lounge, but aside from giving her close friend a pointed look, Barbara chose to ignore it.

You’d continued showing up the rest of the week, greeting Barbara every day before taking a seat with Janine and Jacob, as well as Gregory, occasionally. The younger teachers seemed to have taken an instant liking to you, the four of you sharing stories from previous schools or discussing the latest movie releases. You’d even had a good-natured exchange with Ava one morning. The principal had leant against the corner with her phone and talked you through her “roster”, whatever that meant. Barbara was sure she didn’t want to know.

Barbara observed how seamlessly you integrated into Abbott’s social circles - with the obvious exception of the red head who always sat to her right in the lounge. Melissa pretended you didn't exist, which would have been fine if it wasn’t the elephant in the room. Your first day in the lounge, Janine had tried to talk to Melissa about you. She’d turned to Melissa with a huge grin on her face and said, “Man, Melissa, you’re so lucky to have such an awesome sub as your aide.”

Melissa had glanced at Janine over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, and in a sharp tone, retorted, “What sub?” That’s all it took for everyone in the room to grasp her unspoken message: If you value your life, drop it. The only reaction Barbara saw was a sharp flash of your eyes before you turned your back to the older woman and called Janine over, changing the subject.

But last Friday, Melissa caught up with Barbara after the school day ended and explained that you’d just given her two VIP tickets to the Eagles game on Sunday. If there was anything that would help Melissa forgive your transgressions, it was that. Once again, Barbara found herself impressed with you - you took the initiative to make amends and you’d knocked it out of the park. She was happy for her friend. She’d told Melissa, “Just think of how much you’ll be able to accomplish now that you and that young woman can work together. Now, you and Gary go enjoy that ball game.”

A week after your first morning at Abbott, all of the water was seemingly under the bridge, and the staff room could breathe easy again. No one paid much mind to the anxiety radiating off of you. For the most part, the energy in the room was calming as the day began.

The sudden CRACK of the door slamming into the shelves violently ripped the room’s occupants out of their morning zen. It was enough to cause everyone to nearly jump out of their skin. Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway as Melissa’s furious form charged into the lounge. Her attention was initially on Barb, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes locked on you. The blush of fury rose instantly in her cheeks. She ripped her bag off of her shoulder and tossed it in the direction of her regular table, nearly hitting Barbara in the process, and as her eyes narrowed, you could practically see the steam rolling off of her as she hissed out, “You.”

And that’s when Barbara knew any chance of a peaceful morning had gone out the window.

—----------------------

As your weekend began, it didn’t take long for it to sink in that you were well and truly fucked. You completely failed to consider the consequences of your little scheme. There’s no way in hell Melissa wouldn’t be out for blood at the start of the next school week. The smartest thing to do would be to never return to Abbott, move to a new city across the country, and change your legal name. You went back and forth between chastising yourself for being ridiculous, and being so ridden with anxiety that you couldn’t eat. You felt so stupid - what did you think would happen?

Ultimately, you reached a point where you couldn’t handle the crushing weight of what you’d done alone, so you’d spilled to Ava. Her response had been about the least reassuring thing she could have said.

You did WHAT? I didn’t know you were crazy like that! You’re gonna die girl. I’m not even joking. We gotta go out this weekend, cause it’s your last one alive. I’ll make sure you have fun tho. Do you own any latex?

After refusing Ava’s offers to make your last days on earth worthwhile, you spent most of the weekend drowning in anxiety and imagining how Melissa would bring about your demise. You decided you had to do your best to prepare. You literally couldn’t afford to not go back to Abbott, especially after getting your headlights repaired Saturday afternoon. Under the anxiety, you could feel the ember of your rage, still pulsing with a red-hot glow, so you decided to grasp ahold of it. What you’d done was shitty, sure. But compared to smashing headlights? All you’d done was get even.

Seeing as you couldn’t afford to uproot your whole life and leave Philadelphia, the next most logical thing to do was to never be caught alone in a room with Melissa ever again. You were pretty sure this was something you could pull off - you figured you had two weeks left at Abbott tops, and as long as you had kids or other teachers in the same room, you would have witnesses who could recount your violent death should Melissa murder you.

This is what caused you to arrive at Abbott on Monday morning a full hour and a half before you needed to be there. You’d dithered in your car for about fifteen minutes, debating driving away and then talking yourself out of it. Eventually, you braved the outdoors, darting into the building and down the hallways as quickly as you could. You practically sprinted past Melissa’s classroom door - the lights were out, but even though you logically knew she wasn’t in yet, your mind conjured a vivid image of her jumping out of the shadows like a monster in waiting. You slowed down and tried to control your breathing as you entered the teacher’s lounge, and you were immediately soothed to see how many people were already there. Even better, Melissa was absent.

As you passed Barbara, you gave her a hesitant smile. You actually liked Barbara, as much as you can like someone who’s polite and whom you don’t know very well. You figured it may be the last chance you get - surely the woman would turn against you once Melissa told her what you’d done. Janine, Jacob, and Gregory were all sitting at your usual table, and after preparing your morning coffee, you quickly situated yourself in a seat, thankfully facing the door to the lounge.

“Hey!” Janine said, shooting you her adorable, slightly gapped-toothed smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh… it was fine,” you said, your eyes darting toward the door as it opened. Not Melissa . “Mostly caught up on chores… had to get some work done to my car, fun stuff like that.”

“Car problems are tough,” Gregory said, spooning a bite out of his bowl of plain oatmeal. “What was wrong with it?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what was really wrong. It would inevitably lead to questions and the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know the details of your feud. It was one thing for everyone to know Melissa didn’t like you - there were very few people Melissa actually liked in general. But it was another entirely for them to know she’d smashed out your headlights. Something generic - a bad alternator, maybe - would suffice.

You didn’t even get the chance to lie.

Despite the fact that you could see the doorway, the resounding SMACK of the door slamming open still made you jump. Before your brain knew what it was processing, in stormed Melissa Schemmenti, thick heels clacking on the linoleum tiles. She wore a form fitting pink sweater, the neckline questionably appropriate, and skin tight black pants. Her saint necklaces shimmered from their home on her collarbones. You supposed she wanted to look hot when she killed you.

It only took a moment for her eyes to lock on you, and in that moment you knew things were about to get ugly. To your surprise, seeing the flustered state she was in created a feeling of immense satisfaction. She was furious because your plan had worked. You didn’t even fight the smile that began to find its way onto your lips. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but you relished in the triumphant feeling of landing a critical hit.

“ You,” she hisses, tossing her bag from her shoulder. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Your eyebrows shoot up, feigned ignorance in your voice as you point at yourself and respond, “Who, me?”

She starts toward you, and everyone else at your table scatters. You’re shocked to see Janine step in front of you, her hands up placatingly. “Melissa-”

“Shut it, pipsqueak, and get out of my way ,” she growls, her gaze over Janine’s head burning holes in you.

“Hey!” You spit out, anger spiking and crowding out your anxiety. You’re suddenly standing. “Don’t call her that!”

Janine turns to you, holding a hand in your direction now too. “It’s fine, she calls me that all the time-”

“It’s not fine!” You shout, fists balled. Your eyes are glued to Melissa’s. “You think you can say and do whatever you want because no one will stand up to you. Well, I’m not going to put up with it!”

“Oh my god, please stop this. I will never psychologically recover from seeing your dead body,” Jacob pleads, wedged between the corner of the room and the fridge for cover.

“Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust ya,” Melissa growls. “And after all that bullshit about ‘olive branches' and bein’ cordial.”

You smirk. “Oh, right! How was the game?”

Melissa starts forward again and Janine has to physically hold her back. She’s shockingly effective in spite of her small stature.

“Ya know I didn’t get into the game! Gary and I went all the way to the stadium, but you gave me fake tickets! We wasted our whole afternoon and got harassed by security!” she shouts.

“So what are you gonna do about it? Beat me up? Call the cops on me?” you challenge.

A deeply offended look crosses Melissa’s face as her jaw drops. “Are you callin’ me a snitch?” she snarls. She surges against Janine one more time, who manages to keep her back again. “That’s low, even for you!” Melissa says nastily over Janine’s shoulder.

“Oh, that’s low?” You ask incredulously. “Low like smashing someone’s headlights out?” There’s an audible gasp from Jacob in the corner, and you feel the heat of everyone’s gaze turn from you to Melissa, the whole room enthralled by your verbal tennis match.

Melissa glances around her before pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Ya can’t prove that was me!” You thought someone would have to have been born yesterday to believe that; anyone who worked at Abbott knew that’s exactly something Melissa would do.

“Oh yeah, because everyone else here keeps a bat taped under their desk like a neurotic asshole!” you proclaim, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I’ll show you ya stronza- ” Melissa hisses, pushing past Janine and beginning to reach for you. Your arms come up to instinctively protect your face, but before she can reach you, a figure closer to your height blocks your vision.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Barbara Howard bellows. The whole room comes to a standstill, frozen in time. Even Melissa has been stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide in shock as Barbara looks accusingly between the two of you. You feel immediately ashamed. “Are you both not grown adults? I cannot believe the absolute foolishness I’ve just witnessed!” She rounds on Melissa. “Especially from you!”

“Barb, she-” Melissa starts.

“I don’t care if she insulted your cooking to your face, you do not behave like catty teenagers! We are professional, grown people! Acting like this in front of your peers? Disgraceful! ”

She rounds on you, her eyes narrowing. “And you. To think that I was beginning to think highly of you. You went to all that trouble to make fake football tickets, just to get back at Melissa? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘An eye for an eye’ ?”

The pit of shame in your stomach is sickening as you slowly lower your arms, your eyes unable to meet Barbara’s. Feeling like a petulant child, you couldn’t help but mutter, “She started it.”

“And now I’m ending it!” Barbara yells. You feel her grip the sleeve of your sweater and pull. You stumble after, seeing her grasp Melissa as well. “You are both coming with me!” The rest of the lounge doesn’t move a muscle as Barbara Howard physically drags you into the hallway.

She marches with both of you in tow, Melissa sending you the nastiest glares she can muster from the other side of her friend. Stopping in front of a classroom full of bright colors and tiny chairs, Barbara turns to both of you. “This has gotten completely out of hand! You are both going to sit in my room and we are going to work through this. I don’t care if it takes all day - you will NOT be allowed out until you can act like civilized adults!” She folds her arms and gestures her head forward. You stare back for a moment, thinking she must be joking, but the woman doesn’t budge. After a moment longer, you enter the classroom. You’re followed closely by Melissa, who stalks to the other end of the room.

Barbara closes her door and pulls down the window blind. She turns to you both, her eyes closed and her shoulders rising in deep, even breaths. Eventually, she opens her eyes, and commands, “Take a seat.”

You glance around and only see chairs for children. You begin to protest, but the look on Barbara’s face prompts you to simply grab the nearest chair and plant yourself in it. Your knees are comically close to your chest and you don’t know where to put your hands. You settle on resting them on top of your knees. Melissa is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself - you guess she gets to ignore Barbara’s request.

“Now,” Barbara begins. “We are going to talk out your problems so we can put this whole mess behind us. Your students deserve you at your best, and you cannot be your best when you’re at each other’s throats!” She’s stern, chastising, and you feel ridiculous. “Where did all of this animosity start? Why are you angry with Melissa?”

You can’t help but scoff because the answer should be obvious. Barbara presses her lips together in annoyance and you quickly reply, “Well, where do I begin? Aside from smashing my headlights out, she’s done nothing but disrespect me since I stepped foot in her room. She was insulting me before she even learned my name!”

“I never learned your name,” she pipes up spitefully, and you whip your head around to glare at her.

“Memory not as good as it used to be?” you retort. A muscle in her jaw jumps out as she clenches her jaw, her face coloring once more.

Before she has a chance to rip into you again, Barbara cuts you both off with a stern, “Knock it off!” She looks exasperatedly between the two of you before pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Lord is testing me today,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She turns her attention to the fiery woman across the room. “Melissa?”

Melissa comes to a stop, planting herself and leaning her weight onto one hip. She rolls her eyes, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “If we’re goin’ back to the start, then first things first, she strolled into my class thirty minutes late. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” you protest. “I hadn't even stepped into the room before you were criticizing me. It’s not like I did it on purpose, it was a complete and total accident. And then you started insulting how young and inexperienced I look.”

“I was just givin’ you a hard time, that’s all,” she says indignantly. “How was I suppose ta know you can’t take a joke?”

Your head whips toward her. “And smashing my headlights? Was that a joke?” you retort incredulously.

Her eyes narrow and her tone is venomous as she hisses, “Nah, that was for throwin’ away my school supplies, stealin’ lunches, and callin’ me a bitch.”

You hear Barbara’s sharp inhale and jump to defend yourself. “Those supplies were all broken or unusable! You have so much on your hands with two classes and I was just trying to help you. Also, Janine gave me that lasagna because I forgot my lunch, I didn’t steal anything. You wouldn’t give me a chance to explain myself before jumping down my throat. Not to mention calling me degrading names in Italian!”

Barbara raises an eyebrow and gives Melissa a knowing glance. “Melissa uses gabbortz quite often, it’s nothing to get offended over,” she says, an attempt to reassure you.

Melissa’s eyes dart to Barbara’s as she huffs, “Uh, it’s gabbadost , Barb. And I mighta used somethin’ more… vulgar.” To your disbelief, the red head practically looks sheepish at this admission. Her arms cross in front of her as she shifts her weight, and your eyes are drawn to how the motion causes her cleavage to swell ever so slightly. Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you dart your eyes all over the room, attempting to find something else to fix them on. Luckily, neither woman seems to notice. Barbara’s eyebrows are furrowed in an inquisitive way that suggests she’s waiting for the shorter woman to elaborate. Melissa lets out a puff of air. “I mighta used the ‘P’ word, a’right?”

Barbara’s eyes widen as her mouth drops open in a gasp. “The ‘P’ word? Melissa Schemmenti, you don’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I save exclusively for Kristin Marie. That ‘P’ word.” You don’t know who Kristin Marie is, but Barbara looks positively scandalized.

Tearing her eyes away from Melissa, Barbara stands and turns away from both of you, hands on her hips and head shaking in disapproval. As she takes her turn pacing across the room, the disappointed silence from the older woman allows the weight of the last week to settle on you, and you find yourself suddenly exhausted. You lean forward, your head in your hands and the shame rising inside of you like a tidal wave. How did you get here?

“Well, I think you both have been sufficiently horrible to each other,” Barbara says, turning toward you. “Now explain how this has all made you feel.”

You and Melissa groan in unison. “Come on, Barb,” Melissa starts, but Barbara holds up a single admonishing finger to silence her. The Italian woman becomes subdued immediately, and you notice how different Melissa’s reaction is to being silenced by Barbara.

“How has this made you feel?” the older woman presses, her tone of voice a warning to comply. Melissa leans against the wall, refusing to budge. You all sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity, and you wish the floor would swallow you up. She was using the same tactics on you that you might use on two fighting eight year olds.

Eventually, you can’t handle the tension any longer and you burst out, “I feel totally disrespected!” You look to Barbara and she gestures for you to continue. “I uh… I feel belittled, and like you don’t take me seriously, but I think the worst part is I never got the chance to prove to you that I belong here… you wrote me off before you even met me. I’ve worked hard, and I love what I do, so to have you disregard me right off the bat, just because I made a mistake and I look young… it felt pretty shitty,” you admit, the confession coming out of you in one long rush.

“Especially because… I was excited to work with you,” you add quietly. You’re suddenly enamored with the floor, unable to bring yourself to look either woman in the eye. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you’re majorly uncomfortable with it.

You’re forced to endure your feelings of discomfort for a few more torturous minutes. Suddenly, your eyes widen in shock as a husky voice meets your ears, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the words.

“I guess I feel a lot of the same,” Melissa admits. You raise your gaze to meet hers, and she’s staring at you intently, the earnestness reflected in her jewel-green eyes making your heart skip a beat. “Felt like you didn’t really care when you were late. Some a’ these kids? They got plenty of adults outside of these walls that don’t really care. That’s the last thing they need here. And then ya walked in and you look so young… I couldn't resist teasin' ya. But then you got me back and I got defensive, and I shouldnt’a.” She shifts her weight, casting her eyes to the floor. “I bought all those supplies with my own money,” she admits. “So seein’ you throwin’ em away, it really rubbed me the wrong way. But… you were right. I was tryin’ to stretch em when there was no more room to stretch. And then seein’ my lasagna on your desk… I know I can be a real hot head, and I took it out on ya and it wasn’t fair.”

As you look at Melissa, her red hair shining under the fluorescents and her evident unease at her own candor, there’s a swelling feeling in your chest and a warmth slowly spreading in your limbs. “Melissa,” you say, and her head snaps up to meet you. You search her eyes, waiting for her to snap at you for using her first name. She doesn’t. She simply waits, holding your gaze, and you can’t quite read what’s behind her eyes, but you suspect it’s something far softer than she’s shown you before.

You allow yourself to swim in those emerald pools for just a second longer before you admit, tenderly, “I’m sorry.” You see her shoulders drop ever so slightly, tension releasing as she allows your words to sink in. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your age. I’m sorry for throwing your things away without asking. And I’m really sorry about the Eagles tickets. That definitely wasn’t my finest moment.” You say the last bit with a touch of humor. You pause for a moment, before adding, “I’m not going to apologize for the lasagna, though. Janine insisted on giving it to me, and it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted.”

You see her eyes widen, her brows raising in surprise. A genuine satisfied smile graces her lips, and you can’t help but momentarily wish things had been different over the last week so you could have seen more of those. That smile made her entire demeanor change.

“Well,” she says, eyes flashing with her own humor. She shoots you a sly grin, and you return a small smile of your own. “If I’m bein’ real with ya, I’m impressed. Fake tickets? Pretty diabolical,” she continues, admiration in her voice. Her smile fades, though, and she brings her hand up, pressing a knuckle to her lips briefly in thought. She sighs, murmuring, “I’m sorry too. I shoulda given you a chance before jumpin’ to conclusions. And, uh… I’ll pay for ya to get your headlights fixed.” She mutters that last part, and you notice that she didn’t apologize for smashing them - but you know it’s as close as she’ll come, because you’re not sure she entirely regrets it. You’ll take what you can get.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and once again you suddenly can’t look at her anymore. Luckily, Barbara draws your focus to her as she clears her throat. You both look toward the older teacher as she stares down at you, a smug, triumphant smile dancing across her full lips.

“Now, was that so hard?” She asks, her voice teasing both of you. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe fully again. Melissa rolls her eyes, pulling herself away from the wall, but you detect a hint of relief radiating off of the woman as well.

“Don’t expect us to hold hands or nothin’ Barb,” she says as she heads for the door. When she reaches it, she pauses and turns to you. She considers you for a moment, and you begin to feel warm underneath her gaze. Finally, she says, “Well, ya comin’? We got lessons to plan for the day. How do ya feel about teaching Science?” Her tone is gruff, commanding, no nonsense. The carefully curated tough exterior of Melissa Schemmenti is back in place. But you’ve seen the slightest glimpse of the human being underneath.

“Right behind you,” you reply, and a tentative grin breaks out across your face as you stand and begin to follow the short woman. You pause briefly though, a thought entering your mind, and you turn to Barabra. Your hands grasp each other behind your back as you rock forward onto the balls of your feet, and you convey your gratitude by giving the older woman the warmest smile you can muster and uttering, “Thank you, Barbara.”

She returns your smile, her own radiant and warm, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed a bit. “My pleasure, dear. Go on, I’ll see you at lunch.” You nod in agreement, and turn on your heel, following after your lead teacher. You’re not friends - seeing as your time is limited at Abbott, you don’t imagine you ever will be. But you feel lighter, and there’s a newfound respect for the short woman. And for the first time since you stepped foot inside Abbott Elementary, you feel excited for the day before you.

-------

A/N:

Yes, I'm sorry, Gary will be briefly mentioned/perhaps even making small appearances. Stay strong lol. Controversial opinion but I don't hate Gary. Did I think he was good enough for Melissa? HELL NO. Do I think he should have respected her wishes and listened to her when she explained her boundaries? HELL YES. But ultimately he was just a big dumb guy who was infatuated with Melissa Schemmenti, and to that, I relate. Still, I wasn't mad about that split.

Fun fact - if you've watched season 3 episode 4 already, I wrote the Ava roster line before that episode aired. I died laughing when the kids were talking to Gregory about his roster. We don't need to talk about the firefighter exchange... denial is my favorite state.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #Spotify

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feroluce · 5 months

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Connecting dots tonight (didn't connect shit, I've connected them, etc) because of this post about item descriptions to do with Sampo I saw a few days ago and! I feel like there are so many interesting things that could be implied from this!! Because the recipe for the High-Tech Protective Gear is given to you by Bronya (before the IPC invaded Belobog!), who says this little interesting tidbit about it:

This is an item from before the Eternal Freeze, 700 years ago. Even to the rest of the universe, it would be SORELY outdated. It cannot be made in Belobog anymore due to the loss of entire eras. It is effectively useless; this recipe had to be somewhere gathering dust, kept around solely for archival purposes. There is no reason for Sampo to know about this item or have any idea how it works and yet. AND YET. He's just running around selling knock offs!!

He shouldn't even know how to make these, but the fact that he does means Sampo either

had the blueprints from off-world before he came to Belobog (most likely but also most boring answer)

broke into Qlipoth Fort and copied down the blueprints (completely plausible - he's possibly shown doing exactly that in his splash art)

found another copy out in the ruins of the old world (also completely plausible - Sampo is astoundingly resilient against both the Fragmentum and the cold, as noted by Lynx haha)

Meanwhile, the Inferior Protective Gear recipe comes from an NPC in the underground, and when she gives it to you, she talks about building robots and the robot fighting scene sorry about the quality I didn't have screenshots for her dialogue so I had to use wiki

Which makes me feel like it's safe to say that the inferior gear is mostly being used in the underground, especially by the vagrants and their robots for fights, because...well, who else would use it? Cocolia has made it illegal to explore too far into the Snow Plains, and besides, it's way too dangerous for most civilians even WITH gear. The Silvermane Guards are funded by official sources, they have no reason to rely on Sampo for armor. So it makes sense for an underground mechanic to know the recipe; there's probably not as much market for it up in the overworld.

And if you look at the descriptions, you can see why this probably wasn't something that could be made in Belobog anymore; it requires a charging system of some sort.

We know it's not a problem with the basic materials because all three ingredients can be found right in the administrative district. But the underground only has two of them; somehow, despite being in the planet's crust, and literally crawling with robots...there is no metal down there. It isn't found anywhere, sold by anyone, or dropped by anything. And metal just so happens to be the one ingredient Sampo replaces in his knock off version.

The Inferior Gear uses trash instead, something which, going by the words of that same mechanic, is MORE than abundant in the underground- any good quality parts are extremely difficult to come by down there.

Anyway, all his shadiness aside, I love the implication that Sampo is smart enough to be able to take this item that no one else on the planet probably knows anything about, and was able to figure out what he could replace, and how, and with what, in order to make it easily accessible to the people of the underground, even without access to overworld resources. Because his version DOES work! It literally gives you the exact same amount of defense boost as the IPC one!

Someone should absolutely still knock him around for it, though, world's most slappable face fr fjkdsjfdkjafk

#hsr sampo #hsr sampo koski #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #belobog #he's such a slimeball fjklsdajfkld #I feel like there is something to be said though about the fact that if anyone in the underground is buying this shit armor off Sampo like.#it's either his armor or it's nothing. the overworld isn't exactly sending them a lot of protective gear.#And I'm sure they'd rather have cheap armor they can make and afford themselves than nothing at all.#I wonder if Wildfire would be one of his customers for this stuff or not?#like I think Sampo would be a lot more upfront with them if they were- he's not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds him.#And Natasha is probably his most important client. We already know Sampo smuggles weapons and is her arms dealer.#It's canon that he brought Seele her scythe-#-and I wonder if it's coincidence that Natasha uses a giant weapon that looks similar to the Silvermane hand canons.#I could totally see Sampo trying to sell his armor to ring fighters to fix the matches in his favor though FJKDLSJAFDKLJ #we already know he bets on the fight club from his About Luka line and his dialogue from the Cyrille the Fool quests #so I'm sure he'd be gambling on the robot fights out by Svarog's encampment too haha #do you think they have penny bets for the kids for that kind of fight #crying imagining Hook tagging along and betting single credits on the fights alongside Sampo's much heftier bets #she still wins more than he does JKLDJSKLAJDS

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sweet-evie · 11 months

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Coming Home

Content: Ch #221 SPOILERS, Established Relationship, gojo x afab!oc, gojo x fem!reader, nameless OC, she/her pronouns, lovesick!gojo... Added some extra flare to the unsealing, because Gojo deserves it.

A/N: Actually wrote this back in April 19, 2023… when Ch #221 leaks came out. Posting it now, because I miss him so bad, and was cleaning out my drafts.

✨ masterlist ✨

She’d heard it countless times especially after what happened in Shibuya — Satoru Gojo’s existence was vital in their world. The balance of the jujutsu world shifted upon his birth, and upon his removal, it was plunged into chaos. The fact that his presence alone was a deterrent for powerful curse users that had the intention of harming others testified to how truly influential and powerful he really was.

A walking god among men.

That truth was never more stark until now.

She grew up with him, in a sense — built a life with him for close to a decade and counting, before that ancient sorcerer outwitted them all and took her Love out of the picture. She knew Satoru Gojo as a man. Insanely powerful, yes… Yet he was still just human.

But now…

Now as the earth finally settled after a long minute of feeling like it was being shaken down to its foundations, she beheld a horizon doused in blue and blinding white, the difference between the Satoru she knew and adored, and the Gojo that the world revered was as clear and divided as night and day.

The heavens roared its greeting as the earth trembled — a minute-long tremor that rocked the ground beneath her feet and caused her to stumble.

Whether they succeeded at opening the back of the Prison Realm or if Satoru himself found a way out, she cared not. It suddenly felt like the world inhaled one deep cleansing breath, releasing it all in a collective sigh of relief that revealed how much their world really needed the one person who stood a chance against the King of Curses and his malevolent reign.

The blinding strobe of light that shot to the sky, past the clouds, slowly faded away.

She had been in the middle of fighting Uro and Ryu when Sukuna cast his threatening presence over the world. That same presence that had Uro cowering and Ryu hesitating. And now… A far greater presence had re-entered the stage.

The elders were so quick to exile him, to strip him of rank and political power. But how foolish were they? Their opinions and their rulings did not matter in the face of Satoru Gojo’s incoming wrath. And what did their destruction and dissolve matter to her when everything she had ever wished for had now come true?

He was back.

Satoru was back… Her partner, her Love, Limitless Power Incarnate, the Honored One in the Heavens and the Earth.

=OoOoO=

What was she supposed to say? Were words even necessary? What was there to say?

She had so many things to say to him and they had so much to do. There were powers to consolidate, forces to account, politics to handle, and a myriad of societal problems to solve. The true work had barely begun. But when they were finally face-to-face, all semblance or thought of everything else except for them disappeared.

To her, there was only Satoru with that same blindfold hanging from his neck, jacket torn but with that same all-black ensemble he wore as a uniform every time he taught at Jujutsu High, staring at her with eyes reminiscent of blue skies dotted with clouds.

He was…weary and noticeably upset, but the relief that completely overcame his expression upon seeing her lightened the heavy emotions that swamped her just before this encounter.

She didn’t hear herself when a sob tore through her throat, and didn’t register the tears that gathered in the corners of her vision as her entire body trembled and she immediately reached for him.

They had a meager audience in the form of Yuji and the others. But did she care?

No…

So when his arms enveloped her and when she could finally feel his heart beating against her own, there was only relief and joy and overwhelming love at their reunion. It felt like coming home.

For the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t alone anymore.

=OoOoO=

There were no words to describe the slough of emotions that bombarded him after making his escape. He almost felt bad after hastily thanking his former students — his adhoc rescuers, Angel with Jacob’s Ladder. But he didn’t really care when all he could think about was her. He needed to know she was safe — that she was all right, that she could still accept him after his failure to uphold his end of the promise.

He needed to know that she still loved him.

Time passed immeasurably fast — akin to a blink, when he suddenly found himself before her.

He’d been gone for a month, he knew, but it felt like all of these changes had happened in between the snap of measly fingers and eternity. It had been so long and yet it felt too soon.

She stood before him with the most peculiar expression on her pretty face, clad head-to-toe in dark shades of blue and dirty gray, exhausted, trembling, and so emotional. Those gorgeous eyes clouded with unshed tears, unbound hair swaying in the breeze, hands clenched into fists, lips quivering under the weight of suppressed sadness. Her voice as she mewled his name and sobbed, broke his heart.

He always hated seeing her upset — abhorred the thought of her drowning in despair. He never wanted to see her cry.

He wanted her smile, her happiness.

She barrelled straight into him after dismissing her naginata into the ether.

She buried herself in his arms just as he gladly welcomed her in them. Gods, he’d missed her. He refused to count the unnameable hours and minutes he’d spent wishing he could come back to her, return to the home they’d made, and the love they shared between them. She embraced him tightly and he wrapped himself around her, face buried in her hair, inhaling her deeply, treasuring every beat of her beloved heart. She cried in his arms and he couldn’t deny how wet his eyes were too.

Overflowing with relief and happiness, he pulled back just barely to cradle her face in his hands. She leaned into his touch and sighed in relief, with his name on her lips uttered as a reverent prayer. He’d never heard something so sweet and so endearing in his life. One of his thumbs grazed her parted lips — lips that begged to be kissed.

Indulging in his desires and her own, they fell into a sweet, lingering kiss.

Her fingers in his hair, his hands on her, their lips locked desperately to convey the sleepless nights, the loneliness, the despair, the overwhelming need to have the other close. It was completion and happiness and peace all wrapped up in one.

He was hers… And she was his.

They parted but just barely, still sharing breaths, with less than an inch between them.

“I missed you.” She murmured, tracing the curves of his lips with her fingertips.

He wanted to reciprocate with a joke, but really… he couldn’t. It was just… He swallowed thickly as he caught her hand and kissed each fingertip, her knuckles — pressed his lips reverently on the glittering solitaire diamond ring he’d given her for what felt like forever ago. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru.”

“You’re still marrying me, right?”

She laughed, and it was such a heavenly sound to his ears. Her answer was even sweeter in spite of the carnage and desolation around them.

He could ask her a thousand times over, and she was certain her answer to that question was, and always would be, the same in every lifetime, in every situation.

“Yes… Always.”

Riding high from her reassurance, he squeezed her a little tighter, buried his nose into her hair and inhaled the scent of vanilla. He was home — a litany he'd chanted in his head over and over. He had come home; home was her loving arms, her smiles, even her tears. Home was the sound of her voice when she whispered his name.

He saw it in the way her eyes had searched his, tasted it in her lips with each touch, felt it in the way her heart beat against his own.

He was home... Finally home.

==========================================

[Dumped in AO3]

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x oc #satoru gojou x reader #gojo/reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x oc #wbad fanfiction #manga spoilers

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angellayercake · 6 months

Text

The (very unsexy) Adventures of Secondo and Snowbell

aka four times Secondo was cockblocked by Snowbell and one time he wasn't 🙃

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tasty-ribz!!!!!!

I hope you have the best day Ribzy because you deserve it! You are one of my favourite people in the whole world and you are going to accept being spoiled today because you are actually the sweetest and I feel so very lucky to be your friend 💜 I hope you don't mind me repurposing this art because it was what inspired this idea to begin with. So art, Snowbell and Secondo all belong to @tasty-ribz. If you would like to read the origins of Snowbell you can here and she features in Ribz' art here

NSFW | Papa Emeritus II x Reader | 4100 words

warnings: sexting, nudes, fingering, oral sex, pinv sex, orgasm denial(HAHA)

‘I miss you amore mio.’

‘I miss you too Papa.’

He drops his phone onto his chest with a huff. You were visiting your family for the holidays. It was only a week and yet he felt like he had lost an arm. This was not the first time you had spent a few days apart but usually it was him leaving the Abbey the two of you call home. He still missed you then of course but he was usually busy with endless duties and meetings and the time would pass in a blink of an eye until he was once again with you.

But this time, he was the one left at home and he missed you every moment of every day. He missed your kisses over breakfast, catching your smile across the Abbey as you go about your day, your warm body curled in his arms every night. And he was not the only one missing you terribly. At first, little Snowbell had decided it was his fault you had gone. It almost broke his heart the way she would perk up every time someone came to his office only to glare at him balefully when the person who entered was anyone but you. But within a day she seemed to be fearing he would disappear too, refusing to settle anywhere but his lap during the day and fussing about being returned to her cage in his office, until he gave up and brought her back to his rooms. Her tactic seemed to be to stay as close to him as physically possible so he could not leave her even going as far as trying to follow him to the bathroom.

He scratches at her fluffy head where she is curled up next to him on the sofa when his phone vibrates again. The chat with you is still open when he lifts it but as soon as he registers the photo he had just received it slips from his grasp and he has to fight the urge to cover Snowbell’s eyes. Instead he scoots her off the sofa, gently but firmly enough that she thumps with her back foot in annoyance before hopping away to the small bed you had set up for her in his bedroom.

Sure that she was far enough away he gingerly picks up the phone and indulges in the pulse of arousal your message inspires. He is hardening in his sweatpants embarrassingly quickly but he shoves that thought aside as he hurriedly shoves his pants down so he can give you his full attention. The picture is gorgeous, you spread out on a bed in his favourite barely there lingerie looking into the camera with a sultry expression.

‘Amore mio, you make me want to drop everything and run to you,’ he types one handed, not willing to relent his steady stroking. He watches the three dots at the bottom of the screen pulse, his anticipation growing. When your message final comes through he can’t suppress the groan as he takes in your second picture. It is a close up of your face pouting in the way that would have him unable to resist kissing you if you were in front of him.

‘What about you Papa? How much are you missing me?’ You type just underneath. While sending naughty photos is not exactly new to him it is new to your relationship, but he is nothing if not a gentleman. He is not going to leave his lady hanging especially with all the effort she has gone to. He opens the camera up and adjusts himself slightly for the best lighting, he wants you to be able to see exactly how worked up you have him. Maybe it will even encourage you home quicker.

Just as he is about to snap the picture all the air is forced out of him when a heavy weight suddenly lands on his stomach. Gasping for air he blinks at his phone and instead of seeing his erect cock on display he sees the unimpressed face of his rabbit staring back at him. Casting his phone aside he lets go of his dick like it were on fire, quickly pulling up his pants while Snowbell hops up his chest.

‘Well Coniglietto, you have certainly ruined the mood,’ he tells her with a sigh as she nibbles on his nose. His erection has well and truly flagged so when his phone buzzes again he knows he has to show you exactly what happened. Maybe the sight of your unimpressed fluffy child will work even better then a picture of his dick. Quickly, noticing your second message containing only question marks, he sends the photo. Snowbell is covering everything you may have wanted to see but it is more than obvious the activity he had been engaging in before his interruption.

‘I am afraid someone decided they missed you even more,’ he types underneath, hoping you will not be too disappointed but when his phone almost instantly buzzes with a video call request he knows it is fine.

‘Well hello…’ he starts before you cut him off.

‘Show me our baby girl please?’ He grumbles with pretend annoyance but switches the camera, relaxing as he listens to your happy cooing.

●○●○●○●○●

‘Sec…’ He manages to cut you off mid moan, capturing the sounds of your pleasure with a deep kiss so your hiding place would not be discovered. All day you had been on his mind, not that that wasn’t the case every day but today you had been especially distracting. You had risen early and while he had enjoyed sleepily watching you prepare for the day the call of a few hours more sleep had won out over ravishing you against your vanity. But those lustful thoughts had twisted their way into his dreams so when he had finally dragged himself out of bed a few hours later he had found himself burning with need while you were already hard at work. So when he chanced upon you in the corridor later that day, a day which had been filled with his heated imaginings, he couldn’t even wait long enough to take you back to his office. Not when there was a conveniently shadowy alcove just a few feet away.

You put up no fight, giggling sweetly as he manhandled you into the semi secluded space. His urgency must have been written all over his face as you asked no questions accepting his kisses with a pleasured sigh. To his ever present surprise you were as enamoured by him as he so obviously was by you, always able to break through his stoic exterior. You were so precious to him and he was overtaken with the need to show you. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers so with little preamble he sought out your core neglecting even to remove his gloves first. When his fingers don’t meet your warm wet heat he hastily pulled his hand free of your trousers, biting at the finger of his glove to free himself. He almost gets distracted by the traces of your taste against the leather but he spits them onto the floor quickly as soon as he realises he needs his mouth to swallow your beautiful sounds.

He teases at your clit, circling with the tips of his fingers until you are gasping into his mouth before sinking deeper but just as he is about to breach your entrance a terrified shout echoes through the corridor, coming from his office. You jump apart looking at each other in shock for a moment before rushing from your hiding place in time to see a white streak dashing down the corridor and around the corner followed by Terzo. He looks at you, blinking slowly in shock before you both take off running after them. Rounding the corner all he can see is Terzo bent double leaning against the wall.

‘Where is Snowbell? What did you do?’ He points at his brother accusingly. Terzo straightens up struggling to catch his breath and holds his hand up in front of him.

‘She bit me!’ He says indignantly, making Secondo scoff as you take his proffered hand in yours. He watches impatiently as you check his finger, finding the hole in his glove, the usually pristine white faintly dotted with red. The nip is barely visible, the glove taking most of the damage so Secondo can’t bring himself to care, much more concerned about the whereabouts of his rabbit.

‘You probably deserved it you stronzo! What were you doing?’ He has to fight off the urge to shake him when he doesn’t answer straight away.

‘I was waiting for you in your office,’ he begins to explain. ‘And you were taking forever.’ He gestures dramatically, unnecessarily elongating the word. ‘So I thought I would say hello to Snowbell but when I opened the cage she. Bit. ME!’ He waves his injured finger in Secondos face but he just bats it aside.

‘And then you must have scared her with all your shouting!’ He can’t help raising his voice as he gets more and more worried. They need to find her so he begins looking around the immediate area hoping she might just be hiding nearby.

‘Stop both of you,’ you say firmly, managing to keep calm despite the situation. ‘She has got out before, we know where she usually likes to go so let’s split up and check there first.’ He is so grateful for your level headedness. You are right, he knows that but he can’t help the panic starting to claw at him and he can see it in Terzo’s face as well underneath all the bluster. What if something happened to her?

‘Terzo could you check the window seats outside the library please? She likes to lay there in the sun so she may have gone there. I will check the kitchens in case she has gone looking for food. Secondo, you know how much she likes visiting Copia and his rats so you check his office.’ With only a nod you all go your separate ways. Your heart breaks a little sending him off by himself but you know that Copia will help calm him while you look. You hurry towards the kitchens, eyes darting from side to side checking every possible hiding place for a rabbit.

You reach the kitchen quickly with no sign of her but you sense you are on the right track when you find the little door to the kitchen garden open. Thankfully, between yourself and Primo you had made sure the walled vegetable garden had been entirely rabbit proofed so Snowbell would be safe on her usually supervised adventures outside. You search methodically through the raised beds, around the green houses, the dense herb garden and the small orchard but she is nowhere to be found. Your sense of calm is slipping away with every place she is not until you reach the ramshackle shed tucked away in the far corner. Princess’ Palace says the sign nailed to the slightly ajar door and you are almost certain you have found the runaway rabbit.

Princess is Terzo’s half feral cat. He had found her in this very shed almost twenty years ago as a small and very unwell kitten.and carefully nursed her back to health until she had been strong enough and old enough to look after herself. She preferred to roam the grounds avoiding most of the inhabitants of the abbey only tempted inside to lounge in front of the fire in Terzo’s quarters or chase some of the mice that also made the abbey their home. But since Snowbell’s arrival she had also been visiting Secondo’s office striking up an unexpected friendship between them.

You open the door slowly and breathe a sigh of relief when you see them. You pull out your phone trying to make no sudden movements that might disrupt them and take a photo to send to both Secondo and Terzo. Snowbell or the round ball of white fluff cuddled up with Princess you assume is Snowbell begins to shift, sensing your presence so after sending off the message you put your phone away and scoop her into your arms. You offer Princess a quick scratch to the head when she blinks open one bright green eye at you, probably annoyed you are taking away her nice warm napping mate. She stretches her legs before curling back in on herself and resuming her nap.

‘Come on now,’ you whisper against Snowbell’s soft head as you close the door to the shed and make your way back across the garden. ‘Let’s get you back to your Papa before he tries to kill your Uncle.’

●○●○●○●○●

Your mouth! He could never quite believe how good it felt when you took him in your mouth. It was obscene the way your lips stretched around him as you sunk down his length, taking as much of him as you could. He could watch you do this for hours, but not today. Currently you were under his desk, your lunch plans derailed when you realised how stressed he was. He had back to back meetings all day and he still had a mountain of paperwork to sort through but nothing would have stopped him from making time for your standing lunch date. You always brought him something directly from the kitchens when he didn’t have the time to leave his office and today has been no different. At least until you had sunk down to your knees in front of him and offered to help him relax before his busy afternoon.

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse considering the frankly embarrassing amount of times he had fantasised about you in exactly this position. He gently slides his fingers into your hair to support your head when he can’t resist shallowly thrusting into your mouth. You were so perfect for him, taking all of him so well. You gaze up at him with your eyes so full of care that he has to look away before the vision and the sensations overwhelmed him. And that was his big mistake.

He doesn’t focus at first, staring blankly across his office, still stuck on the vision of his lips around his cock but when you pull back to breath and lavish attention on the head he blinks back to the present and instantly locks eyes with Snowbell. The world narrows down for a second as he stares at her, feeling like the worst man in the world for getting a blowjob in front of his rabbit. Then you sink back down his length, taking him all the way to the base and he snaps out of it.

He tips his head back staring up at the ceiling as he tries to rationalise allowing you to continue. You are behind the desk so she can’t possibly see you and she is a rabbit! She has no idea what a blowjob is. And you feel so damn good. He drops his chin to his head allowing himself to look at you again but he still manages to catch sight of Snowbell sitting in her cage as he goes. His erection flags almost instantly despite your best efforts and you pull away looking up at him in concern and he has to bury his face in his hands.

‘Papa?’ Your voice is filled with worry. ‘Secondo what is the matter?’ He has to explain before you think there is actually something seriously wrong but he is suddenly overwhelmed with the absurdity of the situation he has found himself in. A laugh bubbles up in his chest that he doesn’t bother to repress as he tucks himself away and smoothes down his robes before taking your hands in his.

‘Amore, you are perfect as always,’ he starts trying his best to reassure you. ‘But, fool as I am, I looked away from you and found that our Coniglietto was watching.’ You peer over the desk behind you and see that she is in fact still watching and joins him in his mirth. Your soft giggles almost as much of a stress relief for him as your sweet mouth had been.

‘I do have another idea on how to relieve your stress Papa,’ you say as he helps you to your feet. You go to the cage, open it and scoop the inquisitive rabbit into your arms bringing her back with you. Instead of settling back in your seat though you continue around to his side of the desk but he only raises an eyebrow in question. ‘And much more bunny appropriate too.’ You seat yourself sideways in his lap, allowing Snowbell to snuggle between you. With a soft sigh you settle against his chest, stroking gently down Snowbell’s back and as he wraps his arms around you both he thinks you might be onto something.

●○●○●○●○●

At times like these he could easily be convinced the breathing was not actually a necessity. With the sounds of your pleasure ringing in his ears and the taste of you on his tongue who could argue that his need for oxygen was more important. That being said he greedily sucks in air when you ease up, looking down at him as you scratch your nails over his scalp. As soon as he has had his fill though he grips your hips firmly, encouraging you to continue riding his face. Your body jolts when your clit grinds against his nose just the way he knows you like and he moans as he laps at your juices as if it were the only thing that might quench his thirst.

Today wasn’t exactly anything special except for the fact that both of you were completely free. No meetings, no appointments and no obligations. Even Snowbell was spending the day with her Uncle Primo which meant he had you entirely to himself and he intended to make the most of it. He had risen early and made you breakfast in bed to begin your perfect day off right and as you were lying in bed together feeding each other fruits and pastries you had decided that neither of you would be leaving his rooms today. After getting up you had watched some telly, just basking in each other's presence until things had inevitably turned heated.

He can feel your body tensing as you near your peak when a series of loud bangs echo through his quarters causing you both to freeze. You start to pull away, moving to climb off of him but he stills you with his firm grip.

‘Amore, ignore it,’ he says between kissing and sucking at your sensitive inner thighs before you relent, eager for him to finish what he started. Just when you find your rhythm the bangs come again, the noise so jarring in the intimate relaxed atmosphere the two of you had built.

‘It must be important,’ you say reluctantly, pulling away once more but he will not relinquish you.

‘Nothing is more important to me than making you cum,’ he growls into your centre, proving his point with a broad lick from your entrance to your clit which he sucks on obscenely and you couldn’t possibly argue with his determination. At least until you hear even louder, BANG, BANG BANG!

‘Secondo if you do not open this door right NOW, I will be making rabbit stew for my dinner!’ You both scramble up from the sofa as soon as you realise it is Primo at the door, rushing to pull on clothes and make yourselves presentable in between exchanging worried glances. You had never heard him so angry before and you were nervous to find out what could have made him so mad. And what it had to do with Snowbell. You both pause at the door, sharing one last look before you swing it open to reveal a flustered looking primo holding a distinctly purple rabbit.

‘Primo,’ Secondo greets him with confusion taken aback by the scene before him. ‘We were not expecting you so soon,’ he hesitates. ‘And what have you done to Snowbell?’

‘Me?’ If steam could come out of his ears it is possible that would be what was happening right now as he looked at you both indignantly. ‘What have I done? Fratellino, the question you should be asking is what has she done?’ He holds her out to you a clear enough demand and she quickly snuggles into your chest when you take her blinking up at you with sad eyes.

‘She ate all my red cabbages!’ He fumes at his brother. ‘Not one is without a nibble!’

‘Oh Snowbell,’ you scold her gently, tapping her nose before stroking at her stained fur. ‘That’s not very nice.’

‘I will replace your cabbages Primo.’ He would like to point out to his brother that perhaps he shouldn’t have let a rabbit have free reign in his cabbage patch but he doubts the ensuing argument would be worth it but there is certainly one thing he must insist on. ‘But I think you owe Snowbell an apology.’ You look back and forth between the two brothers engaging in some kind of stubborn staring contest.

‘I … well, si.’ He turns to Snowbell and bows down to her level. ‘My apologies Snowbell. I would never put you in a stew coniglietto. But your Papa needs to teach you some manners if you want to come in my garden again,’ and with one last glare at Secondo he turns on his heel and storms away, presumably to salvage what he can from his cabbage patch.

‘I think we better go run someone a bath,’ You say as you both look down at the stained bunny blinking up at you innocently.

●○●○●○●○●

You flop back onto the bed before he has even had the chance to put down your bags and he takes a moment to watch you starfish on the luxurious sheets, his fondness for you warming his chest. In his mind at least, he had been planning this trip since you had agreed to be his. You both had arrived in Italy a few hours before, taking the scenic route to your hotel so he could begin to show you some of the sights. He was as excited to share his home town with you as he was to share everything else.

He was happy, more than he could ever remember being and it was almost entirely down to you, and of course Snowbell. As much as his favourite ball of fluff tests his patience he knows that without her he might have none of this. Following that train of thought makes his heart pang with guilt, having to leave her behind to have this holiday even if he knows she has been left in safe hands. Copia was the only person he had trusted to look after her for any length of time and he had already sent updates reassuring them that she was faring well in their absence. You must sense his train of thought because you gesture for him to lie beside you, shuffling over to make room.

‘Missing her already?’ You ask softly, wrapping your arm around his waist and pulling him closer.

‘It is silly, I know…’ he starts but she shushes him with a finger to his lips.

‘It isn’t silly at all.’ You replace your finger with a chaste kiss. ‘I miss her too. But that doesn’t make me any less happy to be here with you.’ You always say exactly the right thing to make him feel better. He chases your lips then eager to deepen your kisses. Any tiredness from your travels is replaced by the slow simmering heat of desire that he has only known since being with someone who understands him so well.

You undress each other slowly, no need to rush when you both feel like the only two people in the world. He needs to feel his skin against yours, your physical closeness matching how he feels about you right now. You roll on top of him, caging him in with your arms and as he enters you he pulls you impossibly closer until it feels like there isn’t even room for air between you. You rock together perfectly in sync, gasping into each other's mouths even as your kisses turn sloppy. He breaks from you for just a moment.

‘I love you amore,’ he whispers against your lips.

‘I love you too Secondo.’ Your smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he wished he could dedicate forever to making you this happy. He couldn’t guarantee forever, usually he couldn’t even guarantee an uninterrupted ten minutes, but he could have right now.

●○●○●○●○●

Love you Ribzy and a fancy british audio fic version will be recorded for you at some point in the future. I will even practice so I don't laugh through the smut this time 😁

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIBZZZZ #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo x reader #the band ghost fic #my writing

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ohnococo · 10 months

Text

Gunshow |Toji Fushiguro x F!Reader

Summary: Reader settles in for a quiet night of people watching, deals with some unwanted advances, and has an encounter with a very handsome and very dangerous man.

Notes: Toji fucks reader with a gun, don't say I didn't warn you.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Gunplay/Gun Kink, Porn With Plot, Bad Flirting, Some OCs, Violence, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, One Night Stands, People Watching

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY

As you enter your local haunt, the crowd is a predictable mix of familiar faces, familiar faces plus one, and a decent helping of newbies either on their own or in intimate gatherings. It’s a nice place to spend a weeknight, somewhere to unwind and at least be around other people, even if you have no intention of speaking to any of them. Besides, it feels a little less lonely to drink in a room of strangers versus on your own. A more acceptable way to put an end to a stressful day - in your mind at least.

Just like many evenings before this one, you order a drink, pay, and gesture to a table once the bartender starts on your drink. It's a nice spot near enough to the bar but far enough from the entrance that the cool night air won’t reach you as people come and go, and you’re grateful it’s still available for you despite the prime location. Once seated and waiting, your evening ritual starts as it always does: you open your book, tucking the receipt you’d used as a bookmark somewhere into the back pages, and make a start at the chapter you’d left off at.

It’s a formality, really, a display of productivity even in the face of the inevitable. Soon enough the inevitable meets you head on as you find yourself scanning the same paragraphs over and over, not quite processing them, before you give in to people watching as you always do. The thought flutters through your distracted mind of if the other regulars noticed how long you seemed to be stuck on the same book, but you didn’t really mind them making the same kinds of judgements about you that you did about them. It was only fair that you might entertain them as others had entertained you.

Your small but harmless voyeuristic streak puts you in good company in a place like this, there were always a few people dotted around here going in and out of their own little worlds - readers, writers, first dates, late night workers softening the sting of excessive overtime with a drink to nurse through the hours. Perfectly anonymous but perfectly friendly. So you lower the book to rest on the table, still holding it open for the sake of pretence, and take in tonight’s crowd in closer detail.

Vodka Cran, the university student who usually came in earlier in the night to finish up work, and ended her session with a vodka cran as a post-work pregame. She was originally Rainbow Glasses to you because of her habit of coordinating her rotating pairs of oversized glasses to her colourful outfits, but in the end Vodka Cran just sounded cuter.

First Date Andy, the guy who brought all of his first dates here. You were rooting for him, you really were, especially for the dates that he was extra fidgety for. Unfortunately the lack of confidence was always palpable, even from across the bar.

The Debbies, a group of older women who met weekly for a quiet chat and a few G&Ts. Their namesake was more their actual names as at least two of them would be greeted with a cheery “hiya Deb!”

Then you moved onto the less familiar faces, looking for someone who might be somewhat interesting: another student looking bleary-eyed and typing away on his laptop, a businessman with his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair scrolling through his full-brightness phone, an older woman with a glass of barely-touched wine staring out at the streetlights through the front of the establishment.

Then, your eyes settle on a man perched atop one of the stools at the tall tables in the back of the bar. His appearance is striking enough that your glances become much less covert. He isn’t doing anything inherently more interesting than anyone else there, just sitting alone with a drink in his hand and reading through something on his phone. Still, you find yourself immediately captivated.

People watching very rarely turned into ogling for you but this time you just can’t help yourself, only moving your eyes away when the bartender sets your drink down in front of you, on top of a small black cocktail napkin. You thank them, shutting your book and forgetting to move your makeshift bookmark back in place as you do, sliding the drink in front of you to cradle your hands round as you peek back at the man. You counted yourself lucky that you already happened to be sitting facing him or you’d have embarrassed yourself with how your eyes looked him up and down, you were even more lucky that he was sitting so you were only seeing him from the side, head on and he surely could have noticed the intensity of your gaze.

Even in profile he’s eye-catching: tall, dressed casually in all black, dark hair only kept out of his eyes by his long lashes, but most of all you notice just how strong he looks. His shirt isn’t even that tight, hanging loosely over what you just know would be a trim waist, but his shoulders and arms are absolutely making themselves a spectacle, pulling the fabric taut over their girth. Unwilling to fully give in to being a creep, you force your attention back onto his face and you can just make out a small scar across his lips. You wonder how he got it, mind ready to build little stories around him as it did with most strangers.

Had he gotten into a fight? Maybe the scar was proof they weren’t just glamour muscles and that he knew just how to use them. Surely he was strong enough to beat most anyone? Or maybe he fell out of a tall tree as a kid, was he the adventurous type? Your thoughts are halted as he glances over in your direction and you quickly avert your gaze, looking towards the entrance as you take a sip of your drink.

While you busy yourself looking elsewhere, your heart beats a little faster: both from how attractive the newcomer is and from the embarrassment of nearly being caught watching him. Even as you glance around the room in the general direction of others, your mind is on him. You’d have liked to have seen what the man ordered to drink, to maybe use that to make a slightly different judgement on his character and redeem yourself for objectifying a complete stranger, but his hands were large enough that they’d been obscuring the liquid in the glass he had in front of him. At the end of the day though, people watching was very much a superficial sport, so the man’s incredible physique remains the basis of his nickname tonight (and possibly future nights, should you be lucky enough to ogle him again). Gunshow.

Just as you start to risk glancing back in Gunshow’s direction, the door to the bar opens and in walks a man already making a spectacle of himself. He’s small, red-faced, dressed in what you assume is his finest night out attire, and smiling as though he’d already been cackling at whatever internal monologue was driving his actions - all things you objectively have no problem with. You understand just how many possibly unfair judgments you could sit there making of people and try to generally keep any nicknames positive, but you have a hunch the man isn’t deserving of such grace as he makes his way to the bar, smacks his hand against it impatiently, and asks for “something expensive.”

Everything about him seems to telegraph that he had not picked up on the vibe of the place he was walking into.

It happens occasionally, this is a place that serves alcohol and is open fairly late into the night. People stumble in mid bar crawl, having wandered a block or so away from where the real nightlife is around here. Or someone gets a little far into their pregame before moving onto a more lively location. Eventually though, they leave. It’s a fine place for quiet nights and introverts, not so much for someone looking to party. You can only hope he’ll get the picture sooner rather than later so you can return to your more pleasant daydreams.

As he waits for his drink, he turns his attention to the nearest pair of girls, sending a double brow raise and a small greeting of a head tilt in their direction. He doesn’t seem to notice that the attention is not returned as he receives his drink and throws a few bills on the bar instead of placing it in the barkeep’s waiting hand. He finishes half the drink in the few steps it takes for him to insert himself into the group, and your nickname is solidified. Dickhead.

Even halfway across the room you can hear him asking how they’re doing, directing compliments on their bodies at no specific person, casting a wide net. Though much younger than him, the girls waste no time entertaining his antics. One girl moves herself to stand slightly in front of the other, and whatever she says has him frowning, lower lip poked out as he gives his best puppy dog eyes. He seems to start bargaining as the other girl shakes her head, rolling her eyes and waving him away. Finally, the first girl puts her hand in his face, loudly and firmly dismissing him.

Fortunately the direct approach works as he backs away, tossing out a retraction to his earlier unwanted compliments as the girls ignore him. Unfortunately for every other female-presenting person in the bar his confidence doesn’t quite seem to be knocked as he then approaches another patron. This time it’s a girl who is alone and seems to have been actually reading, unlike you. He seats himself in front of her, waving his hand between her face and her book and beginning a second attempt.

Even with how much of a show Dickhead is making of himself, you find it easy to look away from him when you feel your twinge of annoyance at the antics start to add an unpleasant edge to the relaxing you’d come out to do. Scanning across the crowd you see those in the room who weren’t locked in conversation sneaking furtive glances at him too, probably also hoping the man would leave sooner rather than later. Resting your eyes on the spot you’d given a bit too much focus on earlier you’re slightly disappointed to find the seat empty, but the smallest bit of excitement simmers in your stomach when you see the drink was basically full. Maybe Gunshow would come back? Had he gone to the bathroom? Or dipped out for a cigarette? Would the smell of smoke put you off approaching him?

You smile to yourself for entertaining the thought, as though you might have eventually built up the motivation to go speak to him. Not here, not tonight (not any night). There were already enough unwanted advances being thrown around.

The squeak of a chair dragging across the floor pulls you from your thoughts and you see the woman Dickhead was speaking to stand and begin tucking her book back into her bag. He’s still talking even as she prepares to leave until she takes a page out of the earlier girl’s book, putting her hand up in his face and loudly asserting that she had a boyfriend. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but at least it seemed to get the man to give her another sad look and leave her be as she walks out in a huff. You avert your gaze, as do most women near you, turning their attention back to their books, phones, or friends, as you all are briefly connected with an unspoken wish that the guy would leave you all the fuck alone.

His eyes lock with yours for just a second as you take a gravely miscalculated risk trying to see what his next move was and you groan as you look down, already caught as he begins approaching you. You didn’t appreciate a spot on this guy’s hit list any more than you’d appreciated him completely wrecking the usual soothing hum of low chatter that had come to be your favourite way to unwind for months now.

“Heyyyy.”

With just that one greeting it’s as if he’s speaking to you like he knows you. He certainly doesn’t know you, and won’t be getting to know you tonight as you’re quick to show him you aren’t willing to entertain him. You give him a once over fast enough to show he wasn’t worth looking at much longer than that before rolling your eyes as you fix them in a general direction clearly away from him. As with the others before you, he doesn’t get the memo (or more likely chooses to ignore it) and sets the remains of his drink down at your table before seating himself across from you.

“Want a drink?” The previous handful of rejections have somehow made him bolder as he waves his hand towards the bar before you even have a chance to reply.

“I have a drink.” You shake your head at the approaching bartender, who shrugs and goes back to leaning against the bar.

“Aw, too bad. I got money to burn tonight.” It was said with a happy lilt that made it clear he thought the mention of money would certainly win you over. It did not.

“Go burn it somewhere else.”

He laughs like you made some kind of joke, or like he wasn’t even listening, then tries to rest his hand on yours. He doesn’t get the chance to make contact before you’re snatching your hand away and putting it in his face, effectively serving him a hattrick of similar rejections. “I’m trying to have a quiet night, so you can leave me alone now.”

“All alone? In a bar? C’mon now.”

You serve him yet another eyeroll, accompanied by a scoff for good measure. “I’m not interested. I’m not going to be interested. So let me finish my drink. Alone.”

“You got a boyfriend or something?”

“No, and I don’t want one.”

“How about just a friend?”

You’ve had enough, so you say your mental goodbyes as you collect your things - goodbye to the calm evening intended to clear your head, goodbye to the other half of your drink, goodbye Gunshow, and definitely goodbye to Dickhead. Unfortunately Dickhead decides he won’t take a third rejection and stands too, starting to follow you as you walk out - unashamed of basically begging his way right through the bar even as you approach the door.

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re so focused on getting out (and hopefully not having to take the long and loud route home to avoid this asshole following you) that you don’t even notice the man heading you both off at the pass, making himself known once your hand touches the handle of the door.

“I don’t think they want to talk to you.”

The voice has both you and Dickhead snapping your heads to look at who had decided to join your conversation, and Dickhead is a fraction enough quicker that you see the terror on his face before you turn to see Gunshow had indeed returned. And returned to save you an even bigger hassle than you were already dealing with, it seemed.

“How about the two of us talk instead?” Gunshow puts his hand on Dickhead’s shoulder, just shy of his neck. It’s as if he’s grabbing him by the scruff as the smaller man is immediately overcome with a barely perceptible tremor.

“I- I-“ he’s suddenly much less wordy, apparently not so brave when dealing with other men.

“Let’s go.” Gunshow guides the man out the door, and you’re left standing in the bar just as shocked and confused as Dickhead looks as he’s pushed out the door. As the door slowly shuts behind them, Gunshow shoots you a smile that has the blood rushing to your face as he gives his parting words, “You have a good night.”

The door closes, and with them walking away it’s as if the half of the bar breathes a collective sigh of relief and returns to their evening, something you’re now free to do as well thanks to the mysterious man.

You stand there, stuck between two minds. What would happen to Dickhead? Would he just get walked down the block and told to fuck off? Or herded to a bar much more likely to match his energy for the evening? Somehow there was something more to that interaction than met the eye, like it wasn’t just Gunshow being a Good Samaritan. You know you should just sit back down and continue your evening as planned, content with wondering over the event until it becomes a footnote. Then again, you’d never been one to mind your business, so you make your mind up to satisfy your curiosity of at least seeing where they were going and walk out into the night.

As you look down the empty street, wondering if they’d already turned down one of the many side roads, a million thoughts rush through your head. What would you say if you did catch up to them? ‘Thank you’ to Gunshow and ‘Fuck you’ to Dickhead? Were you just going to ruin the mystique of the man? Had he really come to save you? Of the thoughts you’d toyed with surrounding the man’s character, should knight in shining armour have been one of them?

Then, you hear a loud clang and a man yelping, followed by what you could already recognize as Gunshow.

“You’re really out here spending my money?”

Oh.

That makes the interaction seem less heroic and more frightening, as the logical side of your brain tries to will you to turn around and take the long way home. Instead, you take unsteady steps towards where the sound came from, the side alley next to the bar, until you freeze as you peek round the corner and the two men come into view.

Dickhead was lying against a dumpster, dented from what was presumably the impact you’d just heard before. Gunshow was standing over him, letting out a sigh not dissimilar to each of the women he’d already wasted the time of this evening. He backhands him - a move so small that still manages to leave the man bleeding. How much money had this man taken that he was getting his ass beat about 4 feet from a public street?

“What the fuck, what the fuck-“ he’s frantic, taking the pause in violence as a chance to speak, “Were you following me?!”

Gunshow is only amused, “Actually, no. I hadn’t gotten around to that yet.” He crouches down slowly, and Dickhead puts his hands out as if that alone would stop him. “But here you are.”

“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you, I just knew I was supposed to meet someone to give them the rest of the money and-“

“And ran off instead?”

Gunshow laughs, amused by his audacity. Dickhead laughs too, as if silently forced, but his eyes remain steady on the larger man in front of him, terrified.

“Toji I mean it, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it was-“

Gunshow, or Toji as you’d now learned, backhands Dickhead again and it occurs to you that with this information it was probably time to back away slowly. Instead, you pause a moment more as Toji takes out his annoyance on the man in front of him. You’d seen your share of violence before, drunken brawls especially, but this was different. The man was calm, almost too calm, but then again it seemed just that easy as he left the man beneath him bloodied with just a few open-handed slaps.

Worryingly, you can’t quite find the will to walk away. Even more worryingly, as Gunshow’s muscles tense and flex with each hit, forearms freed from the sleeves he must’ve rolled up while dragging Dickhead around the corner, you find the previous wave of fear draining away for something very much not in line with self preservation. It isn’t the time for people-watching, and it absolutely isn’t the time for being so unbelievably thirsty but your feet aren’t becoming any less glued to their spot.

Dickhead seems to not have the same hesitation as he gathers the strength within the barrage of hits he was taking to try and run, only to be grabbed by his shirt and hauled up to meet Toji’s eyes.

Any sense of satisfaction you might have gotten out of Dickhead being put in his place is drowned in fear that you would be a potential witness to the onslaught as Toji reaches behind himself, pushing his shirt up to pull a gun from his waistband.

It’s as if you’re not in your body, unable to fathom what’s happening in front of you anymore than you can fathom you still sticking around to watch despite very much not wanting to watch a man die.

“You don’t pay people what you owe them, you don’t answer your phone, you harass random women, is there anything about you that isn’t annoying?”

“I can pay you tomorrow, I just have to-“

He moves so fast you only see a flash of metal before the smaller man is sent reeling by the blow, whimpering and putting his hands out to keep his already bloodied face from meeting the pavement. It doesn’t have an opportunity to as he’s caught by the collar of his shirt before he hits the ground. Another pathetic noise is let loose as he’s slammed against the dumpster again.

“You can pay me now. If I have to track you down again, I won’t be this gentle with you.”

He called this gentle?

“You call this gentle!?”

A flash of annoyance briefly overcomes your state of shock as you’re met with a strong distaste for even having a fleeting thought in common with the guy, but the laugh his attacker lets out has you breathless yet again, licking your lips as if you could taste the sound on the air.

“Do you want to find out how rough I can be?” He hits the man again with the gun, not giving him time to recover as the blows continue until he’s screaming out for mercy.

“My coat! It’s in my coat! Please! It’s all in here!” The ‘please’ is unnecessary as Toji is already rifling through his pockets before the sentence is even finished. He takes a few steps back to count the bills he’d collected, surprisingly adept considering he was doing it with a gun still in hand.

He raises a brow as he finishes flipping through the small folded bills and the smaller man is immediately emptying his pants pockets, shaking as he begins uncrumpling the money and attempting to flatten it as much as possible before Toji rips it from his hands and adds it to his handful. “Hm, lucky you.”

He makes a neat stack and folds it before pocketing it, waving the gun in the general direction of the street to dismiss the bleeding man in front of him, who wastes no time in fleeing the alleyway. You back up and try to flatten yourself against the brick facade of the bar as Dickhead exits the alley and trips over his own feet a few times on the way down the road. You’re grateful he hadn’t noticed you as he ran the opposite direction of the corner you were hiding against, and as you take quiet steps back to try to finally leave the scene you realise you were celebrating a bit too soon.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

You freeze, and jump as you look back and see Toji was already rounding the corner, closing the distance between the two of you. There’s a small sense of relief that the gun is nowhere to be seen as he approaches you, but you were only slightly less concerned about what his bare hands could do.

Then, with him now only a few steps away from you, you notice he didn’t look quite as calm as he had from several feet away in the darkened alley. In an instant your mind is hurled back in the direction it was stuck in earlier. With how fit he is you suspect he’s not panting from the exertion. Beating that man was surely no more effort for him than slapping away a gnat would be for you. No, it was all from the excitement. Your eyes were all over him even more intently than they’d been inside, but this time taking in all of the signs that this was nothing but a thrill for him. His dilated pupils, lips curled into a smile, you could swear you could have measured his heart rate from the bulging veins along his arms and - what the fuck? Was he hard?

You can’t believe what you’re seeing, even worse you can’t believe what you’re doing as you don’t even try to stop your eyes from lingering long enough to draw a laugh from the man. The sound is breathy, low, and rumbling - much more relaxed than he now looked.

“Adrenaline will do that.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what else to say, surely not what was on your mind.

“You scared?”

There was fear intertwined with all of the feelings coursing through your body, but the real thing clouding your judgement was much more potent than that. You shake your head and finally bring your eyes back up to meet his.

“You sure?” He wasn’t convinced, neither were you. But you stand by your words.

“Yeah.”

The hungry smile he flashes has your pussy clenching and you swear he knows it from the way his eyes sparkle at the sight of whatever unknown tells you must have. He takes a deep breath, letting it out with a sense of finality, putting a period on what you’ve just witnessed as he tilts his head towards the door to the bar.

“You can go,” he rests his hand on the waistband of his pants, “if you want.”

He knows you don’t, it’s a formality. A way out, should you want it. The way he loops his thumb into his belt and lets his fingertips hang below, just brushing against the bulge in his pants, feels like an invitation. Though as reckless as you had been so far during this encounter you want a little more assurance you were right to move all caution to the back burner.

“What if I don’t want to go?”

The steps he’d taken earlier were completely silent, but now he lets the full weight of his shoes hitting pavement be heard, ringing in your ears along with all the other thoughts you were ignoring in favour of making bad decisions. “I thought you said you wanted to spend your night alone?”

He’d heard that? “Maybe not.”

Another smile from him, and you must show whatever tell you had again as his smile widens. “What do you want to do then?”

“Come to my place?”

Toji’s brows raise high. “Didn’t take you for the type to bring dangerous men home.”

Something about him being so taken aback has you feeling like you’d won something other than the chance to have a strange man in your home that is as likely to rob or kill you as he was to fuck you. It has you feeling bold, maybe even stupid.

“What type did you take me for?”

“The type to run off once you got your share of watching me. Guess peepin’ in the bar and watching me handle my business wasn’t enough, huh?”

You feel the blood rushing to your face, not expecting to be exposed for your nosiness, but then you hadn’t expected any of the things happening so far tonight. The blood rushes straight back between your legs as Toji puts a hand onto the back of your neck, leaning down til his nose touches yours.

“But if you want to be reckless tonight, who am I to stop you?” His lips brush yours and he stops to let you set the pace. It’s another chance to hesitate, to run, but you’re not interested in that.

Parted lips and a shaky sigh are all he needs from you before he’s pressing himself against you, tongue moving past your lips and into your mouth. There’s a fleeting sense of relief that he doesn’t taste like cigarettes, though the musings you’d had inside the bar were soon miles away as his other hand finds yours and guides you to feel his cock through his pants - big, hard, intimidating, and all you wanted right now. Just like him.

He pulls away and the last of your sense keeps you from whining at your need to have him touching you again before he pulls your mind back on track.

“Your place, right?”

Right.

The large hand on your waist as you walk through the darkened streets keeps your mind buzzing with the high of what had happened and what was about to happen. You were grateful for it because you were too excited to risk logic kicking in and reminding you that this was a terrible idea. When you walk past a few people you think of how normal you must look to them if they cared to glance your way - just a couple on a nighttime walk. Maybe heading home from a date night. It makes it that much more thrilling that only the two of you know the true nature of the evening’s events.

So thrilling that as you reach your apartment your last chance to stop yourself from doing something stupid doesn’t even cross your mind. Getting the key in the lock without visibly trembling with anticipation is the closest to a concern that you have.

Once you’re inside and your door is shut and locked he’s on you like he’s as desperate for it as you are. His hands grip your ass hard, pulling you flush against him, mouth on yours, biting at your lips and grinding against you until you’re panting into his mouth. You’re brazen, running your hands over his abs, squeezing at his pecs. His hips are glued to yours so in lieu of getting your hands back on his bulge you wrap them round his hips. You let out a frantic giggle as you grab his ass and find the barest hint of softness before your fingers squeeze and meet the firm muscle beneath, then when you start to move your hands upwards towards his lower back he’s stopping you by the wrists in an instant.

“Ah-“ he chides, letting your wrists go and breaking your frenzied string of kisses. He pulls the gun out from where it had been tucked in the waistband of his trousers, “careful now.”

You hadn’t noticed when he’d put it away earlier, but you certainly hadn’t forgotten about it. The way you practically drool at the sight of it doesn’t go unnoticed and Toji slowly turns it, watching your lashes flutter as the soft glow of the street lights coming in through your windows glimmers along the smooth metal.

“You like guns?”

Apparently tonight you do, with a man like him wielding one. You like it enough that when he brings it towards you and strokes the barrel against your cheek you instinctively turn to press your lips against it, parting them and lightly trailing the tip of your tongue along it. His groans at the sight before him spur you on, and your eyes stay locked onto his as you open wide and lick from hammer to muzzle.

When you take it into your mouth, he sucks air in through his teeth. “It’s loaded…”

The fact that it doesn’t stop you from sucking the cold metal gently, bobbing further down onto it, has Toji baring his teeth, cock twitching against you. His free hand moves to cradle your jaw, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed against a wall. He grips you firmly enough to keep the gun from sliding too far towards the back of your throat, but gently enough that once you’re pressed between him and the wall you’re free to bob up and down slowly.

“Tastes good?”

You nod and he pulls the gun from your mouth, replacing it with his tongue. His kisses border on too wet, too rough, but with how worked up you already were you weren’t sure there was really such a thing. The sound of the gun thudding heavily against the wall next to you has your thighs trembling, as he braces himself and roughly tugs at your pants with one hand. You rush to get your shoes off as you help him remove everything, along with your underwear, kicking them off and to the side to give him full access to do whatever he wants with you. When he brings the gun back down and brushes the now warmed barrel against your thigh you’re sure to encourage it with a soft hiss and your hands gripping at his shoulders.

The muzzle stays pointed to the ground as he trails it up and down your skin, smiling as you angle yourself towards it. He licks his lips, swallowing hard as he looks down at you. “I bet you taste good too.”

He strokes the slide of the gun through your folds, and you gasp when the rear sight taps against your swollen clit, well past sensitive and ready.

“You’re kinda fucking crazy, huh?” Maybe you are.

Toji taps the top of the barrel against your pussy and you try not to jump at how heavy it feels against you, even with such controlled strength. When he pulls it back he surveys the wetness you’ve left along it before taking it into his own mouth, deep as he can, sucking your taste off of it. When he pulls it back out he licks his lips, savouring you, and leans in close.

“Me too.”

An attempt to lock lips again is missed as Toji gets down onto his knees in front of you, guiding your legs open wide and sliding the gun against you again. You put your full weight against the wall, already needing the support, and he assists you further by hiking a leg up and over his shoulder. As his tongue presses against your clit his eyes leave yours for what feels like the first time since you’d shut the door behind the two of you. His tongue works in slow circles as he swirls the muzzle against your entrance, squeezing at your thigh. Your hands tangle into his dark hair, gripping at it hard as you rock your hips against him in silent encouragement for him to give you what you needed.

It borders on painful as it enters, but the way he angles it as you clench against the hard metal has your toes curling. That’s all it is, really - something to clench round as he works you over with his tongue, but the thought of it is enough to have you gasping with delight. What it was inside you, what it could do, what the man between your legs could do to you if he felt like it. He didn’t feel like it though. The way he groans into you and laps up your mess makes it clear that of all the wicked little things he could, would, and probably has done in his life what he feels like doing right now is making you cum like you never had before.

You try to take in the sight below you, his lashes oddly pretty against his cheeks as his eyes are shut in bliss, the rest of his handsome face obscured by being so thoroughly buried and busy between your legs. When your eyes do close, head hitting the wall behind you as he speeds up his pace, you think back to the look he gave you when you took the gun into your mouth. Absolutely out of his mind with need, and a need for only you. The fact that you’d made a man like him look like that has your stomach clenching just as much as him giving your clit a hard suck, making you squeal as you look back down at him.

He’s watching you now, small foray into overstimulation having gotten your full attention on his eyes, green irises obscured by just how blown his pupils were with desire at the very sight of you. His low rumble of a groan sends vibrations through you that have you gasping his name, something that seems to please him as the sensation continues with a happy hum.

The sounds your pussy makes as he fucks you with his gun fill the room right alongside your unashamed moans and he has to move a hand from your thigh to his pants, keeping his pace with both weapon and tongue as he frees his cock from it’s uncomfortable confinement. He pumps it roughly, matching the speed of his gun inside of you and growling into your pussy as the heat inside you builds and you start clenching hard enough to hamper his movements. Then, he pulls the gun from inside you, setting it aside, and releases his suction on your clit with a pop as he stands and lifts you from the ground, sliding you onto his awaiting cock.

The movement is swift enough that you barely realise he’s done it until you’re filled to the brim with him, scratching at his back and moaning into his mouth as he bounces you up and down his length. Though you’d well warmed the metal that had been inside you, Toji's heat is something else entirely, soothing the sting with a slight soft give well suited to stretch you out perfectly and stirring you up at the same time.

His big hands grip your ass hard, as though spreading you a little wider would help to accommodate his girth better. Discomfort doesn't matter now though as he gives you strokes that leave the thick head of his cock tugging at your insides, thighs trembling around his waist, senses shattering as your pussy sends waves of static straight down to your toes with each rapid movement.

His deep moans border on growls, they're so frenzied, and the first wave of cum gushing heavy inside sends you the rest of the way over the edge alongside him. You can only hold on tight as he pulls you down in time with his upward thrusts, and if he weren’t fucking you so hard through your orgasm you might have heard the cum he was pumping you full of being forced right back out and falling heavy onto your hardwood floors below. You bury your face in his neck, breathing hard as you try to keep hold of him despite feeling spent from the events of the night.

He’s sensible enough not to step in your combined mess below as he moves down your hall, staying deep inside you while he carries you as if you were light as air.

“Where’s your room?”

You gesture lazily and grip him tighter as he lets go of you with one hand, but you’re held securely as he opens your bedroom door and walks in, setting you onto your bed. He pulls out slowly, rubbing at your hip as you shiver slightly, and sits back, watching more of his cum dripping out of you and onto your covers.

“Should’ve asked before I did that.”

All you can do is shrug, it was the last thing on your mind right now after what had happened, and would remain on the back burner as Toji lies down next to you, staring up at your ceiling and letting the afterglow wash over you both.

After a while he rolls onto his side, facing you.

“So, what’s your name?

#if you follow me on ao3 this is nothing new #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #my writing #toji #reader insert #minors dni you will be blocked on sight #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n

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mayajadewrites · 6 months

Text

I Wish I Hated You

story summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?

ao3

C H A P T E R S E V E N : S P I L L

Your eyes flutter open as the sun peers through your white curtains. You feel noticeably... alone. You look to your left to where Levi was when you fell asleep, now it's empty.

You let out a sigh. It was all too good to be true.

You grabbed your phone to check your texts. Nothing.

He didn't even bother to leave a fucking note.

"I'm so stupid." You say to yourself, pressing your palm to your forehead. "I really thought for just a moment that he changed."

Last night you and Levi communicated better than you have before and it was mostly in silence. Your heartbeat slowed when you fell asleep next to Levi, it was like you were back with him. You were able to be comfortable. To be yourself.

You guess he didn't feel the same.

You pad to your kitchen, grabbing a cup and ice. You make your iced coffee, hoping it will help mend the wounds that were reopened in your heart.

As you sit on your couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you promise yourself that you are going to tell Levi how you truly feel. No bullshit, no attitude. Either he's in this relationship, or not. He can't make you feel so safe, so seen, and then just... leave.

You decide to text Hange so you can stop thinking to yourself.

You: Come over?

Hange: Woah, you never ask me to come over. What happened?

You: I'll tell you when you get here.

When Hange arrives, she brings bagels and more coffee.

"Okay, spill." She sits on the couch.

"Levi came over last night after he had those last shots," You lean back on the couch. "I didn't invite him. He asked if he could stay and sleep in the same bed as him. But he promised he wouldn't touch me."

"And was that promise kept?"

"It wasn't because of me. We only cuddled. We barely spoke though, he seemed so... sad."

"I've known Levi for a long time." Hange clears her throat. "He's the worst at communicating, and he likes to run."

"But I've never given him a reason to run. I've always been about him." You look down at the floor. "I try to make him better. I tried to make us better."

"Has Levi told you about his mom?"

"...Not really. He always shot me down when I asked about her."

"I'll let him tell you about her. But I will tell you, the man has mommy issues. She died when he was a kid and he had to watch."

You brought your hand to your mouth. "What?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I'll let him tell you. I only know about it because Erwin told me. Actually, maybe you should talk to him too. He's like the 'Levi whisperer'."

"So he watched his mom die..." You start connecting the dots. "That doesn't excuse what he does."

"He needs patience." Hange put her hand on your shoulder. "I know it's hard to have with him. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he watches your every move."

"I gave him 2 years of my patience. Of my love. He didn't tell me any of this."

"I'm not saying he deserves forgiveness." She put her hands up. "I'm saying you need to know the whole story before cutting him off completely."

You let Hange's words sink in. Levi has been through something, obviously, and you need to know the entire story.

You decide to take a shower and get yourself ready. You were going to go to Levi's house.

Unannounced.

You glance at yourself in the mirror at the outfit you pulled together - a white tshirt with 'mom' jeans and your favorite pair of white platform converse. Your hair was in messy waves complimented by small gold hoops.

You pulled up Levi's driveway for the first time in awhile. You spot his black Range Rover so he's home.

You start to think about the memories of you and Levi stumbling into his house - drunk on nothing but your love. Levi couldn't keep his hands off you and he almost took you right on his front steps.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Moments later, Levi is in front of you. He looks surprised to see you, but almost relieved at the same time.

"I-"

"Save it, Levi." You put your hand up. "I don't want to hear your apologies."

"So... why are you here?"

"Tell me about your mother."

Levi's eyes widened and you knew that this was the path to Levi's true emotions.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi x you #levi ackerman x you

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byrdstrolls · 4 months

Text

Mysteries Are Like Onions Part One

Somewhere, deep in the western plains, dotted with sparse farms and gas stations, cottonwood and tumbleweed, a young boy steps off a train. He is dressed like a respectable six sweep old in his sunday best, though it was friday. He wears a brown overall dress with a short light red button up. A pair of dark red fingerless gloves and bows in his hair signify his blood color. On his back is one of those tall camping backpacks, nearly the size of the entire kid, yet it had to be lightweight enough, because he navigated the dusty old station with balance and ease, though perhaps a bit of slowness. Clasped in his hands is a yellow lined notepad, the kind where the papers tear off, that he has a pen leaned into at the ready. In his mouth is a tiny gold sunflower necklace he gnaws on absentmindedly, thinking. Anyone who knew him would know it rarely left that place in his mouth.

Strangely, he is alone.

Down the way, an older tealblood woman in a long dress and cardigan paces up and down the station's platform. Anxiety radiates off of her even from ten or so feet away, but the child, with a glance around, quickly deduces she is the only other troll at the station. He walks over, red shoes clacking on the grain of the old wood, and, as gently as he can, attempts to interrupt her nervous march.

“‘xcuse me miss,” He says. “You have a moment?”

“Hmm?” She answers, blinking. “Oh-” She says, glancing at the teenager as if seeing him for the first time.

“Sure” She says, her gaze softening.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a map of this area, wouldya? I’m tryin’ to make my way to the umm. Express train station but I might’ve gone the wrong way.”

The woman pats her pockets, finding them empty.

“Well- not with me” She says, apologetically. “But it’s not far to my hive. Do you have somebody waitin’ on you?” She continues, hoping the answer is yes. It’s dangerous to travel alone, especially with a caste that low and especially for a troll that young.

“No m’am” He says, and her heart sinks ever so slightly. “Lead the way.”

And so the two of them began to walk back towards the direction of the town.

“I’m Laryan” She offers.

“Nice to meet ya Miss Laryan” Says the teenager, as polite as ever.

“What’s your name?” She asks. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Barely” He answers, electing to only respond to one of the questions. “I’m Barely Shyeck.”

“That's… an interesting name” She responds.

“I’m a detective” He says, as if this somehow justifies something.

“Is that so?” She replies.

“All detectives” he says, “Have silly names”

“Can’t say I’ve met enough detectives to know.”

“Sher-lock. Pie-rot. The silly name” He says. “Came free with my notepad.”

She snorts, unable to help from laughing at this assertion, and judging by the grin around his necklace on Barely’s face, he had intended it that way.

“This is me,” She says, pointing to a cozy little one story hive, and unlocking the door.

“Nice place” Barely says, looking around.

“Oh- don’t pay attention to anything, it’s so dirty” She sighs, shuffling through piles of papers on a crowded dining room table. Eventually, she pulls out a rail map, sweeping out a place on the table and unfolding it out. Barely inches closer, looking over her shoulder.

“You and I are right here” She says, circling the town of Baskertop. “Over by the Fleetrail, (but that’s not a passenger train) and the Eastbound. You can take the Eastbound train” she says, hand going further down the map, “Up to Shercattle, and take that up to Creekturn, and the Express to the city is right there”

He nods along, his brow furrowing, tracing the journey she’s laid out for him several times with a finger.

“Could I have this?” he asks. “I’ll work to pay you back.”

“How so?” She asks.

“I’m a detective” He again asserts, clearly having a lot of pride in referring to himself as such. “Give me a mystery and I’ll solve it- and I’ll not ask for a fee if you let me stay the day and have the map.”

She had already become endeared to the strange little young man to the point she might have offered him those things freely. But the little rust seems to take himself so seriously it was hard not to play along.

“Alright,” She says. “I misplaced my wallet this evening- If you can find it, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Barely pauses for a second. “Miss Laryan,” he says. “I’d gladly do that for you, but you’re sellin’ me a lil short” he huffs. “I really can handle a mystery more mysterious than that.”

“If I can think of another one,” She says. “I’ll let you know. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes miss, thank you” He says, giving one last look at his map before setting down his notepad.

“Why were you at the train station, Miss Laryan? Were you waitin’ on someone?”

She laughs, in the floaty, self deprecatory way some trolls do, putting a kettle on the stove.

“Not exactly. I was tryin’ to build up the nerve to make a visit to Shercattle myself. But it doesn’t matter- misplaced my wallet. I couldn’t find my train ticket, I’m sure it was in it.”

“Why were you goin’ there?” He asks.

“To visit a friend of a friend- if he could be called that, and ask him a favor.” Laryan sighs, tapping her finger on the counter.

“My moirail” She says. “Is a cowboy out on the plains. A bunch of his cattle, and the other cowpokes too, have been going missin’. All of them are at their wits ends about the whole thing.”

“Really?” Barely says, perking up, scribbling down on his notepad. Drawn to these kinds of puzzles like a moth to a flame. It’s like trying to fish salt out of water, to separate a detective from their nosiness.

“All of them” She frowns, exhaling. “Are out there blaming the other cowpokes, or a thief. Think someone takin’ more than their share.”

“Makes sense,” Barely nods. “But what’s that got to do with Shercattle?”

“Well,” Laryan shrugs. “I figured if somebody was stealing the moobeasts, they’d probably have to be selling em, or the meat, somewhere, right? And the cowboys know most people in Baskertop. It’s a small town. They’d know if somebody was buyin’ em here. Shercattle, though, it’s a little further out- mostly dairy farms. They’d have just as much of a reason to buy cattle as we do.”

“So you were gonna go there, and ask your friend of a friend if he’s seen anything?” The rustblood extrapolates, thinking, that perhaps, Miss Laryan was a whole lot smarter than she trusted herself to be. The kettle on the stove goes off, it’s screech like a final ding to the end of his sentence.

She takes the thing off the stove, going to pour the tea.

“Yes,” She confirms. “This friend- well, you didn't hear this from me-" She qualifies, before beginning something like gossiping. "He's a, well- I don’t want to say a fling- of my moirail- Vekeso- Well, maybe he would be if they stopped pussyfootin’ about. I knew him through Vek. He’s a dairy farmer. I probably forgot my wallet someplace, because, well, I was so nervous, I think there’s been some kind of fallin’ out between the two of them these past months. I don’t know if he’s still fond of me, knowin’ how tied up I am with Vekeso. Sugar?” She asks.

“Yes please!” Says the teenager, swinging his feet under the table. “Honey, if you have it. Are you sure you don’t want me to solve all that mystery instead?” He offers.

“Trolls can turn nasty about these kinds of things when there’s money involved” She sighs, setting down his teacup. “I’d rather you stay out of it, for my peace of mind.” She continues, sitting down with him. “Don’t you wanna ask me questions about my wallet?”

The young man picks up the tea, blowing on it, a tiny huffy little frown on his face, as if he still considered this beneath him.

“Where’d you last have it?” He concedes, starting with the basics.

“Well,” She says, pausing to sip her tea. “I usually keep it in my coat pocket. I wear this coat everywhere, you see. I’ve never lost it before.”

“Is there anyplace you hang up your coat? Did you buy anything this evening or last morning?”

“There’s a rack at work and at my hive” She says, touching her cheek with her finger as she thinks. “I don’t think I bought anythin’- but, oh!” She squeaks suddenly, paling.

“What is it Miss?” Barely inquires, a look of concern flashing across his face, he turns the necklace in his teeth.

“I shan’t say.” She frowns, her shoulders sinking.

The young rust stares for a moment, and then reaches across and takes the woman's hand, giving it a gentle pat.

“My loyalty is to my client, Miss. That’s you. I won’t tell anybody.”

She frowns, glancing to the side, but the boy really does seem so earnest.

“Don’t tell a soul” She says, biting her lip. “But… I’m a clerk at Baskertop’s Municipal office. My eyes aren’t as fast as they used to be. Sometimes- I’ll get a little behind.” Laryan sighs. “On the paperwork. And- it’s not supposed to leave the archives. But, some days, I’ll take something and fold it up and stash it away- so I can work on it before opening next evening, and not fall behind.” She groans. “I can see it now. I was probably foldin’ up something frantically, puttin’ it in the wallet, rushing around to close up on time- and I probably left it right there on my desk” She says, with a guilty, sad little smile.

He nods. “See?” He says. “Too easy.”

“I work again later tonight, I can check when I clock in then.” She muses. “Thanks anyways, Mr. Detective.” She says fondly. “Want me to show you to the guest room?”

“No thank you, Miss Laryan.” he says. “I might wanna go around town for a spell.” Barely says, standing up to rinse his empty mug.

“I told you,” She frowns. “Don’t go pokin’ around that moobeast thief nonsense.”

“I won’t” he says, with a smile. “I promise” He says, heading out the door to go start pokin’ around that moobeast thief nonsense.

He starts, as any reasonable troll would, a ranches, moseying about for cowpokes down the road. It’s not long before he finds one. Barely’s eyes light up, and he walks over to a tall beanpole of a jade sitting up on a wood fence.

“‘xcuse me sir,” Barely says. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Vekeso, wouldya?”

“Who’s askin’?” The man mutters, lifting the brim of his hat.

“I’m Barely Shyeck” He says, offering his hand. “Detective”

“Detectin’ what?” The stranger huffs, staring down at the hand but not taking it. “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh, no, I’m just tryin’ to find some missing moobeasts, mister…?”

The jade stares down at the still offered hand for a moment, before finally conceding to take and shake it. He releases it, leaning back.

“Mister Vekeso to you.” He says.

Barely grins, glad to have found him so quickly.

“Mister Vekeso” He says, “Could you show me the fields where the cattle are?”

“You fine with horses, kid?” Vekeso says. “Dunno what you’ll find that the rest of us haven’t.”

“I’ve been riding horses since I was four, mister.” Barely says, climbing over the fence to where Vekeso kept his stallion. Suddenly, the Jadeblood pauses.

“The other cowpokes didn’t send you, did they?�� He asks.

“Miss Laryan did, in a way.” He answers.

“Of course” Vekeso sighs, plopping down on the horse, and offering a kid a hand up. But he does seem to relax upon hearing that his moirail was the source of Barely’s investigation. “She’s always meddlin’ in cowpoke business,” He mutters, but in the fond kind of way in which a troll teases someone they’re close to.

“She means well, Mister.” He replies, leaning into him as the horse begins to trot in earnest.

The plains were beautiful this time of night, a great rolling ribbon of greens, pinks and blues that stretched out into a star filled sky. The plants were tall and thriving in the moonlight. It’s quiet, and a little serene, but the detective's eyes are not on the view, but on the ground.

“You graze your herd here often?” Say’s the boy.

“What’s it to you?” says the jade, as forthcoming on information as ever.

“It just doesn’t look very grazed, is all” He answers, gesturing at the lush vegetation.

Vekeso is quiet for a long moment before he decides to answer this question.

“We used to go further north.” He says. “But since the Fleetrail went in half a sweep ago, all the construction, there just isn’t enough land anymore. I’d have been outta a job if the Mayor hadn’t rented us the Redgrass Ranch he’s been sittin’ on.”

“I see,” Barely says. “The cows sure must be happy about it.”

Vekeso snorts. “Yeah, I bet” He says, a tiny half smile appearing on the jade’s face for a moment, before being swallowed, and disappearing into a look of barely withheld bitterness. Barely waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Do you like the new lands?” The child prompts, finally.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Vekeso murmurs under his breath.

“Any information, really” Says Barely. “Might help with the case.”

“This’s got nothin’ to do with the cattle” He says, still prickly.

“Motives” Barely retorts. “For trolls bein’ upset, might have a lot to do with the cattle.”

“I thought I wasn’t in trouble.” Vekeso replies.

“You’re not.” The teenager reassures.

“Well, I’m the only one who’s upset,” Vekeso complains. “And I didn’t steal any damn cattle about it. I’m too grown for that. The mayor was nice and all to rent us these grounds.” He huffs. “But he’s still fleet, so there’s all sorts of stupid regulations on it. How long you can stay, who you sell cattle too, who you gotta answer to. The other cowpokes don’t care, because we’re making more money than we ever have, sellin’ out to factories who want that free range sticker ta put on their packages” Vekeso says, pulling the horses reins, bringing the two of them to a halt, in a little area on the edge of the woods that overlooked the herd.

“Me I’m not fond of anybody lookin’ over my shoulder.” He exhales, sliding off the horse, and crossing his arms.

“And there’s the disappearances” Barely adds.

“Yeah, and there's those.” The cowboy sighs. “Not fond’a those either. But I wouldn’t be stealin’ my own damn moobeasts.” He adds.

Barely hops off after him, stumbling a little as he lands on the ground. “I understand, Mister Vekeso, really. I don’t think it's you. But that helps, anyway.” He attempts to reassure him, again. The child smooths out his dress, and begins to take a closer look around the property. Turning in circles once or twice with his notepad, biting into that necklace.

“Mister Vekeso” He says, suddenly. “Do these woods go down the whole property?”

“Pretty much” He answers. “They follow along the river.”

A contemplative expression rests on the rustbloods face, and he turns and begins walking into the trees.

“Hello?” Vekeso says, watching with mild confusion, gesturing at the herd. “The cattle are over here, “detective”?” he says, gesturing at the field.

“Don’t airquote me, “cowboy”” Barely bites back. “What kinda animals do you usually get out here, Mister?”

“Nothin’ bigger than a fox or deer, kid. I mean, nothin’ that’s gonna wanna eat a moobeast.” He says. “What’re you on about?”

“How far north does the Fleetrail go?” Barely asks, bustling around the forest floor as if looking for something.

“What?” Says Vekeso with a sigh, before finally following Barely into the woods, not wanting to lose sight of him.

“You said the new segment was built earlier this sweep” The detective clarifies, wandering around glances under bushes. “Does it go back far?”

“It’s a train,” Vekeso says, struggling to keep up with the child. “Of course it goes back far.”

“They probably developed,” Barely says, climbing around some rocks. “A lot more land than just your old ranges, didn’t they?” He continues, his voice muffled by distance.

“Probably” Vek says, frowning.

“Well, what kinds of animals live further up north?” Barely says, continuing his strange search. “Their habitats woulda been destroyed. I reckon they’d be upset, and starving, and wandering around further out than they’d ever been havin’ nowhere to go.”

“I see where you’re goin’ with this” Vekeso says, finally catching up. “But what’d be big enough to take a whole cow?”

“In my travels” Barely says. “I’ve seen howlbeasts, nearly as big as elk, up north.”

The cowboy stares, dumbfounded. “They’d be a long way from home” He answers.

“Couldn’t hurt to look, could it?” Says the rust.

Vekeso walks over to him. “What’re we lookin’ for?”

“Tracks, scat, big hole or cave in the earth that might be a lay or den.” The child says. Vekeso stares for a moment, before exhaling, rolling up his sleeves and going to help the detective with his search.

The two of them cover a lot of ground, in about an hour. With every step he takes further into the property Vekeso starts to feel a little bit more anxious about the whole thing. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the kid to be right. It’d make him feel mighty silly, if he and the other rangers had all been pointin’ fingers everywhere about a problem caused by some displaced wild animals. Just when he opens his mouth to tell the kid maybe they better give up and head back, Barely calls from across the way.

“I found one, Mister!” He exclaims.

“A what…?” Says Vekeso, heading over trepidatiously.

“An old den!” The kid says, peeking out of a large hole in between to big pieces of rocks, holding a tuft of hair triumphantly.

Vekeso walks over, and takes the coarse chunk of fur from his hands.

“I’ll be damned.” He huffs.

“It was wolves.” Barely asserts.

“Well” Vekeso frowns. “I guess I’ll be removin’ yer air quotes, Detective Barely.” He says.

The child beams. “Thank you Mister Vekeso.” He says. “Couldya take me back to town?”

It was hard to ride the satisfaction of having solved the case for long. Vekeso didn’t even seem too happy about it, and all the lengthy way back to town, Barely was haunted by the feeling it had been too easy. As easy as a misplaced wallet, wrapped up in a single day. Maybe he shouldn’t wish a harder life on himself, but he longed to stretch his legs and mind further than this. He couldn’t help but think there was a shadow of an even bigger mystery enclosed around this place. He couldn’t see its form, couldn’t determine its nature just yet. Too many loose questions and pathways, ends that hadn’t quite been tied.

Vekeso ran off, presumably to talk to the other cowpokes, to talk strategy. That’s something Barely didn’t like, either. He had given him an answer, but not a solution. The land taken by the Fleetrail wasn’t coming back anytime soon. They might just have to kill the wolves, which was it’s own headache, for both moral and logistical reasons.

At least, Barely resolved, he could head down to the municipal office, and hopefully share with Miss Laryan the joy of finding her misplaced wallet.

But it was not so. As Barely approached the office, a tiny frown curved around his necklace as he began to notice the place was swarming with officers. He glanced between them, attempting to determine the intricacies of their rank, before walking over to the youngest, who was putting crime scene tape over the doors.

“‘xcuse me sir” He says, “What happened here?”

“There was a robbery.” The man sighs. “Someone broke in last day.”

“I don’t mean to be trouble officer, but what’d they take?”

“Government papers. A couple old county estate exchange receipts. Stop nosing around.” The officer says, more sternly.

“I can’t help it, Sir,” Barely answers. “I’m a detective.”

The man pauses for a moment, and then flat out laughs at him.

“Go play somewhere else” He says.

“Can I look inside?” Barely pleads.

“Of course not” The officer huffs.

“Can you describe it to me?” He asks.

“Will that make you leave?” The man says. “It’s a fucking mess, kid. They tore the damn place apart, real desperate for that crusty old paperwork. Piss off.”

Barely’s brows furrow, and he finally takes the hint, walking away. He tries to view the scene from different angles, as best as he could from a distance. He wanders back and forth, before, with a slight frown, pulling out his notepad to write down that none of the doors or windows seem damaged. Besides, he assumes, the sorry state of the office and archives, it was difficult to tell someone had broken in at all. The robber must have been let in, or had a key. He contemplates this for a long moment. Before spotting Miss Laryan down the way, and speedwalking down the road ask fast as his little legs could carry him.

“Miss Laryan” he says, “could I pull you aside for a moment?”

“Barely, I have work” She chides, as the child drags her off into a nearby alleyway. “What’s going on down there?”

“I need you to stay calm, and answer some questions for me” Barely says, with as much assertiveness as he can muster.

“Who else works at the municipal office? Who has a key?”

“Why-” She frowns, “the security? I’m the only clerk, you see. It’s why I gotta work so hard”

Barely’s heart sinks.

“What was the paper,” he says. “That you snuck into your wallet last night?”

“Oh, it was so late” She frowns, struggling to remember. “It was… messiahs- I think… maybe some old land sale?”

“Are you sure you left your wallet on the desk?” He says.

“I mean- not really” She backtracks. “But it wouldn’t hurt to check, right?” She says, flustered by the child's seriousness. “Why do you ask?”

“You can’t go to work,” Barely says.

“What? Why?” Laryan says, biting her nails.

“There’s been a robbery” The rust frowns. “And if the fleet sheriffs got any kind of head on their shoulders, you’re a prime suspect.”

Miss Laryan pales. “But- I didn’t! I was- I take paperwork home all the time! There just- weren’t enough hours in the night- what’re they saying? What should I say?” The woman panics, starting to hyperventilate.

“M’am,- m’am it’s okay, just breathe-” Barely tries to assure her to little avail.

“I can’t go to jail!” The teal squeaks, and then, suddenly, falls to the ground, as if stressed to the point of honest to g-d fainting.

Barely’s eyes widen, and he stares around helplessly. “Miss,” he pleads, on deaf ears, staring at her collapsed form, frozen. A little time passes, as he struggles to figure out what to do.

Eventually, a shopkeeper walks by, turning and peaking into the alleyway with concern. Barely makes a half effort to step in front and block the view of the unconscious woman, but he’s too small and too slow for it to do any real good.

“Ah,” The stranger says, not even seeming to notice this attempt “She having one of those again?”

“‘Xcuse me?” Barely says, shyly.

“Don’t worry about it son,” the man says, rolling up his sleeves. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Laryan gets this spells every time she gets nervous. Must be havin’ a hell of a night.” He sighs. “Help me carry her back to the mart, and get a cold towel, she’ll be up in no time” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Of course” Barely says, shaken up but glad to be of help, the rust hurries to grab Miss Laryan’s legs, following the man in front of him’s lead into a convenience store, it’s neon sign spelling out the word DUNNERMART. They brought her over to a bench, and set her down. The young man catches his breath, shaking out his arms.

“What’s your name, kid?” The shopkeep asks.

“I’m Barely, Mister.” He answers.

“I’m Dunner” The man grins. “You want a milkshake?”

Barely pauses, as if, caught up in the excitement of it all, he hadn’t realized he didn’t have much to drink or eat today.

“I don’t have any money” He says.

“First one’s on the hive” Dunner says, turning around to make one in the machine.

“Thank you, Mister” Barely says, gnawing furiously on his necklace, leaning on the balls of his feet. He wasn’t used to such graciousness, especially from a highblood. The man hands him the drink. Barely pauses, wondering if it would be safe to question him.

“What’s going on down the road?” The detective says, baiting him by feigning ignorance.

“Someone broke into the government office,” Dunner shrugs.

“Any idea who?”

“Beats me- I wasn’t here all yesterday. Didn’t see anybody suspicious. I hear the cowpokes are fightin’ over somethin’ or other.” He shrugs.

The kid glanced downwards. None of this information was new to him.

“You know anything about a land sale in town?” He asks.

“Nope,” He answers. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’” Barely says, sipping his milkshake. “Just curious.”

“Stay safe, kid,” Dunner says. “Shouldn’t be messin’ around about things so serious at your age. Be careful” he continues. “Where you put your trust.”

Does he imagine it, or do the shopkeeps eye’s flicker over to the unconscious Laryan for a moment?

“Of course, I’ll be careful Mister Dunner” Barely says, a guarded expression crossing him.

The shopkeep heads to the back of the shop, presumably to go work on something or other, and he’s replaced by a bored looking cashier. Barely continues to sip his drink at a snail's pace frowning. He’s nearly an inch from finishing it before Miss Laryan’s eye’s flicker open. The rust’s gaze goes to the cashier glued to her phone, and then back to his friend.

“Stay calm, Miss,” he whispers. And she freezes. “I think you’re innocent- those officials shouldn’ta been workin’ you to the bone in the firs’ place.”

“What should I do?” She mutters back in hushed tones. “I can’t return the papers, I still can’t find em” She chokes.

“I think you and I should go up to Shercattle, and visit your friend of a friend.” Barely says.

“Barely,” She pleads. “I told you to not go pokin’ around about the cattle.”

“Not about that” He retorts. “I just think it might be smart for you to skip town a couple a nights” He says.

The woman pales. “Okay” She squeaks.

“Someone else,” He says. “Was lookin’ real hard for those papers, and I don’t think they found em. You don’t tear apart an office like that if the papers are right on the desk peakin outta a wallet.” The rust continues, thinking out loud.

“You think so?” Miss Laryan whispers.

“Yes, Miss, I do.” Barely whispers, determined. “I wanna know who wanted em that bad and why.” He asserts, offering a hand to the woman.

“So how about on that long train ride, you tell me-” He says, pulling the woman to her feet, picking up his notepad. “In as much detail as you can- every single thing that happened from when you closed last morning til you met me at the station this evening” He says, his sunflower necklace making slow circles in his mouth as he and Miss Laryan walked outside, as the detective concedes that just maybe, just maybe,

youtube

This wallet thing might be a mystery of the scale he was interested in after all.

#barely writing #<---kind of a funny tag out of context #my writing #drabbles #fantroll #fantroll rp #homestuck #homestuck oc #homestuck rp #hiveswap #friendsim #pesterquest #Youtube

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sleeplesssmoll · 3 months

Note

SO I was thinking about potential reverse 1999 AU and this is what I came up with

The masked timekeeper au

So like after the breakaway incident the SPDM announced the death of everyone including vertin so now everyone except constantine, ms Z, maybe tooth fairy, thinks vertin died along with the other kids it definitely says that on her file a picture of smoltin with big red letters that says deceased but she’s been actually alive the whole time, now a few months later the foundation is introduced to the timekeeper a mysterious person with a mask that is immune to the storm, and they came literally from nowhere, they have a separate file that started at the age of 12. The timekeeper was an anomaly to the entire foundation who didn’t seem like a human or a arcanist. She has a mask to hide her identity and change her voice to make it harder to connect the dots.

4 years later sonetto now a graduate was assigned as the assistant to the elusive but charismatic timekeeper. It’s a very awkward meeting because vertin has to hide her identity and sonetto either thinks that the timekeeper was awkward or doesn’t like her because of having to work with other people (this is after meeting regulus like the original timeline)

But Vertin actually revealed herself to regulus, then druvis and sotheby so there was more trust among the team but she made them promise not to tell anyone especially not sonetto.

They asked her why but she doesn’t say but the reason is she wants to protect her from constantine and the foundation since that’s probably how she was kept in line was to threaten her remaining “friends?” that somehow included sonetto.

THE POTENTIAL ANGST,

VERTIN HAVING TO HIDE HER IDENTITY FROM SONETTO

THE AMOUNT OF IDENTITY CRISIS THAT SHE PROBABLY HAS

VERTIN ACTING PROTECTIVE BUT SONETTO DOESN’T KNOW WHY

AGHH!!!

I was inspired by this and started writing this thing and it just kept going and going...

IM SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING

but this idea fit into this thing in my drabble graveyard and revived it! I wanted to explore how Sonetto and Vertins love/hate relationship worked when they were kids and this sort gave me an avenue.

I have so many half-written things it's not funny.

For example, Carbuncle-Scheinder is over 10 chapters and going. I do one-shots for a reason! My brain does not settle, it keeps running until it dies.

I have as many snippets floating around my docs as I do actual notes for class (separate accounts of course). It's unhinged. I could post the part I have so far for the mask au, but it's...rough. very rough. But maybe rough is better than gathering dust where no one can see it because who knows when I'll actually finish it

#reverse 1999 #ask #tk mask au is very neat

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Note

Okay wait so Bradley and Dot have smoked pot together right?! Sooo how'd that happen was it like,

Dot caught Bradley smoking on the roof trying to hide that he was doing it and it goes "if you don't tell your mother, you can have a few hits"

Or did he catch her and instead of getting her in trouble he's like "he'll yeah I haven't gotten high in a hot minute, if you share I won't tell your mom"

Or was it an entirely different scenario??

Terms of Endearment Masterlist

Warnings: Under age drug and alcohol use.

Okay let’s get one thing straight here. First, Bradley Bradshaw never and I mean never, gives or buys Odette any kind of illicit drugs. He does however, indulge on a few occasions in smoking it with her. After she purchased it herself. Jake however—well he’s under the impression that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander and he's known you since well forever really, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Jake Seresin is Dot's weed gummy dealer. She can’t legally go buy her own so Jakes on it. He’d rather know what she’s doing than have her go behind his back.

But the deal was Odette didn’t snitch. The second she even thought about snitching on Jake’s ass he’d shove his foot so far up hers she'd be licking his big toe. As for the beer and other assorted liquors—Well he doesn’t really have an excuse for that except for the fact you used to do the same thing as Dot. Smoke a lot of weed, get drunk on whatever you could get your hands on, Jake too. He knows what you used to get up to and if push ever came to shove he’d be the first to remind you what a delightful and respectful young woman you used to be. The pinnacle of an upstanding citizen.

Not really, you were a fucking delinquent. Jake knows it, you know it and Odette didn’t fall very far from the tree when it came to her taste in recreational drug usage.

It’s on one of those days where Odette hasn’t been that awful to her parents. She’s honestly been content the last few weeks ever since Rooster came and picked her up from that party that turned bad. She was supposed to be grounded. Wasn’t allowed to go out on the weekend with her friends or have anyone over. You’d been very clear that if she so much as stepped a foot out of line you’d send her off to one of those all girl private schools that her uncle Pete was adamant about her needing.

Knowing all this—Odette hit up Richie Nealson, the kid who’s known for dealing anything of any value from the out of order stall in the boys bathroom in the C block building, for a bag of weed that’s probably been grown in some old guy's greenhouse. She wants a peaceful night in, a Friday night all to herself and her snacks and her weed and her music.

So Dot does what Dot does best. She’s climbing up onto the roof from her bedroom window, lugging all her essentials up in the black backpack and setting up shop for the evening, there’s not a cloud in sight.

“Honey?” You're knocking on the door to the study you and Bradley share. He’s sitting there with his glasses on the bridge on his nose looking all kinds of stressed about some of these mission parameters he’s meant to hand out on Monday. “Have you seen Dot? I haven’t heard from her in over two hours and she’s not in her room?”

“She’s probably on the roof—“ Bradley sighs, taking his glasses off as he stands up from behind the desk he’d been perched at for the better half of the evening. “I’ll go see what she’s up to.”

“She knows I don’t like it when she gets up there.” You sigh, drinking in the sight of your husband is his gray sweatpants and his black T-shirt. The dad bods more prominent nowadays but still—Bradley Bradshaw fucks. He keeps his health in order, especially his cardiovascular health. “Makes me nervous.”

“She does a lot of things nowadays because she knows you don’t like them.” Bradley smirks, kissing your cheek before your turn to playfully squish his ass. “Hey!” He’s swatting you away as you laugh, watching Bradley disappear up the staircase—he takes every second stair like a child would.

When Bradley enters his teenage daughter’s room he’s creeping in as if he’s waiting to be hit by a sniper that’s perched on top of her dresser. Slowly taking steps towards the window that’s had the fly screen removed. Yep—he was bang on the money, Odette was up on the roof.

“You got room for one more up here?” Dot hears her dads voice coming from her window. With panic setting in, she’s coughing up her lungs because she’d been in the middle of smoking a joint she’d poorly rolled and breathed in too heavy too quickly.

*cough* *cough* *cough*

“You alright up there?” Bradley’s asking before he’s muscling his way up, shocking himself that he could whip out a muscle up like that in sweat pants and without stretching. “Oh my god—“ He’s stunned when he sees the set up Dots made.

“Dad!—'' Dots frowning in defeat as Bradley wiggles his way up into the sweet setup Dots organised. She’s got pillows and a blanket, snacks and fairy lights. Her favourite book and some snacks. But of course Bradley can smell the incredible pungent aroma of marijuana. He’s old, not stupid.

“Before you try to push me off the roof, can I just say—that’s the strongest smelling pot I’ve ever smelt and I can’t believe your mother hasn’t smelt that out yet, holy shit.” Dots confused, why is her dad not absolutely ripping her head off right now. She’s just stunned into silence, staying perfectly still as Bradley makes himself comfortable and steals a handful of his daughter peanut M&M’s.

“Uh, yeah—I guess you could say it’s pretty strong.”

“You know you’re gonna have to share—“ Bradley says with a mouth full of peanuts and chocolate and that’s what has Dot on the verge of thinking she’s entered a parallel universe. She passed out didn’t she? She actually smoked herself into a weed coma and now this is just all some kind of fucked up dream?

“You wanna smoke weed with me?” Odette has never been so utterly flabbergasted in all her sixteen years.

“Well it’s either that or I tell your mother that you’re smoking weed on the roof you know she doesn’t like you climbing up on.”

“I’ll share if you promise not to tell—“ Dots bargaining, sussing out her dad as she holds the half smoked joint. “Also I’m pretty sure this is extortion—“ Bradley just takes it, reaches for the lifter sitting on the blanket beside his daughter and relights the herb. He holds the poorly rolled joint between his lips as he takes a few seconds to really soak up the sensation. He hadn’t done this since before he joined the Naval Academy. “Huh, well I’ll be damned, never thought I’d see a Naval Commander smoking pot on a roof with a minor.”

“That makes two of us.” It’s the cough Bradley lets out as he passes the joint back to his daughter that had Dot laughing. “Holy shit that’s rough—“

“Tell me about it, I’ve been picking stems out of the batch for half an hour.” Dot replies before she’s settling in, lying down on her back beside her father who’s sitting with one leg bent, leaning back on one arm and the other leg laying out stretched. “Uncle Jake told me that him and mum used to get high together all the time when they were my age.” God Bradley was gonna kill that guy if he didn’t stop running his mouth. “Said mum used to sneak into his bedroom window and pass out on his floor when she’d get really fucked up.”

“Your mother didn’t have that crash hot of a childhood kid.” Bradley sighs, leaning back to join Dot on her back as she passes him the joint that's slowly but steadily getting smaller and smaller. “For what it's worth though, you know she’d still rip your head off if she found out you’re smoking dope.”

“I’ll just tell her you smoked it with me.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s she gonna believe in that situation huh?” Bradley’s taking another drag, all the while Dots reaching for her phone and taking a quick picture of Bradley smoking pot on the roof. “Hey! Ya little brat!”

“Should I start a group chat with mum Uncle Pete and Uncle Jake or should I just email your higher ups—“ Dot can’t even finish her empty threat before Braldey is smacking her shoulder. “Ow! Fuck you—I’m calling child protective services.”

“They’d bring you back without two hours—“ Bradley’s laughing, handing Dot the nearly finished blunt. She’s probably got one more drag left before it’s done. “I won’t tell your mother about this, your secrets safe with me—I’d rather know what you're doing up here than have you sneaking out to parties and getting mixed up in the wrong things with the wrong people.” It’s a sincere explanation that explains Bradley’s reaction to finding his daughter smoking on the roof. “But the second that photo is used as evidence against me so help me god I’ll throw you off the damn roof you got it?”

“Yes Sir Commander Sir—“ Dot salutes. She’s starting to feel light headed and airy. Bradley smiles, he hasn’t been able to just hang out with Odette in what felt like months. “But now’s probably a good time to mention Uncle Jake got me edible’s.”

“That fucking guy honestly.” Bradley’s groaning, rubbing his hands across his face until the whites of his eyes are red. “How many?” He is, however, intrigued.

“Six, they’re sativa though so I wasn’t sure if I was gonna take ‘em tonight.” Dots rummaging through her bag, fishing out the bag of gummies before handing them to her dad. Bradley just studies the bag, decides what could possibly go wrong, and says the most outrageous thing a father could say to his sixteen year old daughter ever.

“How about we split the bag and the first one mum catches does the others chores for a month.”

“Dad! Are you insane!” Dot feels like the parent in this situation. “Are you trying to get us killed! Are you having suicidal tendencies? Is that what this is?”

“Don’t be such a pussy—“ Bradley’s challenging his daughter, wiggling his eyebrows as he cracks open the bag. “Three each.”

“That’s 60mg each!!” Dots fucked, she know she is, but she isn’t about to let her dad have all the fun. “You’re too old to be doing this stupid shit.”

“You’re too young to be telling me what to do.” So with that, Dots flattening her hand out for Bradley to drop her three gummies into her palm. He’s taking his three in his before looking at his daughter like this is the craziest thing he’s ever done. “Bottoms up kid—may the odds be ever in your favour.”

“Mums gonna fucking kill you.” Dots laughing as she takes her three edibles at the same time Rooster does. Watching each other with high eyes as they chew and swallow.

“Only have to outlast you.”

He doesn’t. Braldey doesn’t outlast Odette. Because she’s been doing this for months without being caught by her dad or by you with the exception of that one time she was busted after that party.

“Oh my god! Bradley Bradshaw—“ You find your husband a little over an hour later after he and Dot had made their descent down from the roof in the living room—watching children’s sensory clips Dot searched up on YouTube so she could sneak off. “Are you high?” The little bitch had set him up. He knows it, but he’s too fucking high to do anything about it.

“I’m not.” Is all Bradley says. “But in a hypothetical world where I was, how mad would you be?”

“Astronomically mad because I know exactly who you got it off.” You knew Odette was up to no good, but you didn’t think Bradley would be dragged into it.

“Oh good—yeah that’s good, good thing I’m not high then.” Bradley just shakes his head, it rattles his brain.

“Bradley?” You coo.

“Yeah baby?” He smiles, well at least he thinks he smiles because in his mind as he sits and watches the dancing strawberry on the TV he’s totally kept his cover.

“You’re drooling—“ Fuck.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising

#terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #terms of endearment #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader

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writingintheshadowsforever · 2 years

Text

Imagine Okoye confessing her feelings for you

Three months that's had long you had been gone, and still there was no word for when you might return home. It was the most dangerous mission you'd ever accepted in your ten year career as a War-dog.

The objective to bring down the entire operation of a war criminal. He was number two on the list of notorious criminal overlords, and so far five War-dogs before had attempted the same mission. All of them came back in body bags, and the crazy thing about it was. Your superiors didn't even suggest the mission. You walked into their office and offered to take on the challenge yourself. They thought you were kidding and nearly laughed in your face. But once they realized you were serious they questioned you wondering if you were trying to prove something. You weren't because you had nothing to prove, your home was riddled with badges and medals of honor. For all that you'd accomplished over the years. What set you off was a box filled with letters from grief-stricken mothers, who lost their young sons to the war criminal. If not taken by force to serve in his army when villages were raided as they were gunned down. Letters from people who were making one last plea after losing their families to these raids. You couldn't make it past the third later without bursting into tears.

It took a recommendation from Nakia who was a top War-dog, and one of the best to ever do it. She understood why you wanted to do it, and recognized the look of determination in your eyes. She knew there would be no stopping you. So she put it a good word for you, and off you went. Once you successfully infiltrated his operation, and was undercover. You went radio silent cutting off contact with everyone including Okoye. The only thing that brought her comfort was the small earring that Shuri equipped you with. So if anything did go wrong they could at least track you. But it brought her little comfort considering she still couldn't hear your voice.

The General hadn't been the same since you left, but only the people closest to her could see the subtle changes in her behavior. T'Challa would catch her looking at a hologram map every now and then. It wasn't a map of Wakanda but another country with one small orange dot on it. Ayo noticed the little stumbles in her sparring matches, and even though Okoye was quick to recover. Usually the General didn't make mistakes especially such small ones. Shuri started to become suspicious when Okoye made it habit to stop by the lab everyday and, ask for her to pull up the status reports for all active War-dogs.

Nakia could tell her long-time friend was upset with her for the simple fact Okoye avoided her like a plague. She had only seen her a few times since you left, and whenever she did catch sight of the General. It wouldn't take her long to disappear before Nakia could even say hi. Eventually she got tired of it and cornered her while she stood guard over the Princess one night. There was nowhere for her to go at least not without abandoning her duty. Okoye would never do that.

"Is there something you want to get off your chest Okoye?" Nakia asked her taking stance by the woman.

"No why would you assume that?" Okoye replied continuing to look straight ahead.

"The silent treatment you've been giving me for the past three months speaks volumes sister." Nakia shot back placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Talk to me please."

"How could you sign off on suicide mission for y/n?" Okoye finally caved in.

Nakia did a double take a bit surprised that your mission was the reason for Okoy'e strife with her. She knew you and the General were pretty close, but it never occurred to her that there was more to it. "Y/N was going to go on that mission regardless of rather or not I approved of it. She would've disobeyed orders if that's what it took."

"Your superiors sent her to her death" Okoye whispered angrily.

"She is more than capable" Nakia disagreed.

"So were the last five War-dogs who are now six feet under after trying to bring that man down." Okoye demanded whirling around to face Nakia.

Nakia saw something in her eyes that she hadn't seen since Killmonger threw T'Challa into the falls. Fear and not just regular fear the kind where you think someone you love isn't going to make it home. She saw the same look in her family's eyes whenever she announced she has taken on a particular long and dangerous assignment. "Oh sister you've fallen for her haven't you?" Nakia stated softly.

Okoye looked away not giving a reply.

"Oh she's in love alright I haven't seen someone this worried since brother when you use to leave" Shuri yelled from below.

"Shuri please" Okoye whined.

Nakia had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She didn't think The General was capable of such a sound. Shuri chuckles came from below.

"Rest easy Okoye she is more than capable and will be home before you know it. Just some advice tell her how you feel, and she just might stay a little longer" Nakia said rubbing her back.

Okoye gave her a nod praying that she was right about you being okay.

Two Weeks Later

Your tracker went dead somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. Okoye was awoken to sound of Shuri's frantic voice telling her you might be in danger. The General came to life at the mention of your name, and it took her all of thirty seconds to get suited up. T'Challa and Nakia insisted on going with her knowing it could've be anything. Either you got made and they took you out to the desert alone to kill you, or you were on a raid and simply just lost your earring.

It turned out to be both one of his men who used to work for a human trafficking dealer that you brought down. In the early days of your career and he was one of the few who escaped. He finally realized who you really were, and instantly alerted the big boss. He ordered for you to go down with the village. When one of the gunmen turned his weapon on you. A woman let out a warning cry and you ducked just in time avoiding a shot to the back of the head. You swept his feet out from under him, and was on him the second he hit the ground. You ripped the machine gun from his hands, and slam the butt of it into his face knocking him out. After that it was a shootout none of the men cared about the villagers anymore, and you told them to run for it.

You retreated into the forest losing your earring at some point, and with no time to stop for it. You kept going only slowing down when a bullet lodged itself in the back of your shoulder. You turned to fire off a few rounds hitting two men, before going on the run again. One of them were able to get another hit. This time it was in your abdomen, and you went down in a ditch for cover. For an hour you waited each of the gunmen out, taking the kill shot whenever they got close enough. Eventually it was just you and finally you were able to pull yourself out of the ditch to crawl to a tree. Those bullet wounds had done too much damage to your body and caused a substantial amount of blood loss. Your head was spinning you knew you wouldn't be able to get help on your own.

Somehwere just a few feet from where you were propped up against a tree. Leaves were crunched under someone's feet and a branch was snapped.

Crap you thought you got all of them.

"Y/N are you here" a familiar voice called out.

You let the gun drop to the ground with a small grin when T'Challa walked out of the bushes in his suit. "About damn time your highness."

His helmet disappeared revealing his worried face. "You're hurt" he said rushing over.

"Oh please I've had worse" You said trying to play it off, but then a ferocious cough rips itself from your body. T'Challa shakes his head and puts his arm under your legs. That's when Okoye appears from the bushes spear armed ready to go, but when her eyes land on you. She freezes and the spear clattered to the ground.

Nakia is right behind her eyes riddled with worry when she saw the General let her spear go. When she saw the state you were in guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. It wasn't too long ago she was insisting that you would be fine.

T'Challa had lifted you into his arms and walked over to them. "Get the jet over here we need to get her back to Shuri now."

Nakia had to be the one to send the signal out to the jet considering Okoye was still focused on you, and your shallowed breathing. Once they were back on the ship she finally went into action using her kimoyo beads to stabilize your injuries. The trip back to Wakanda was long and stressful with Okoye not leaving your side for a second. She held onto your hand like it was a lifeline praying to Bast that you made it.

When they touched down Shuri was all set up for when they arrived with you in their lab. She went to the work extracting the bullets from your body carefully, and using her technology to treat the wounds. You stayed unconscious for the entire process, and when she was done. Shuri advised everyone to let you get your rest now that you were off death's door. All of them left the lab except Shuri who wasn't too faraway working on a project, and Okoye who stayed by your side throughout the night.

You came to the next morning waking up feeling a weight on your chest. You sat up carefully to see it was Okoye who was fast asleep resting her head on you. One of her hands were holding onto yours in a death grip even why she slept. You smiled and laid back down not wanting to wake her yet.

"You know she froze right" Shuri whispered walking over to the sand table. Her kimoyo beads started vibrating the second you woke up alerting her off your vitals. She wanted to check up on you making sure you weren't freaking out or anything.

"Well I was in pretty bad shape when they found me" You replied softly.

"No she still would've froze" Shuri argued. "Your wounds are completely healed by now, but there might be some soreness. I would suggest you take it easy for the next couple of days."

"You don't have to worry about that after the way my mission ended. There's no way my supervisor lets me out into the field for a while" You said.

"Y/N I will chain you to my spear if you attempt to leave Wakanda on some death trip for the next three months" Okoye chimed in.

You peeked downward to see her eyes open and boring back into yours. They were filled with relief but you could tell she was still worried. She lifted her head from your chest and turned to the Princess. "Can we have a minute?"

"Of course General good luck" Shuri said before getting on the elevator to go up.

"Was that for me or you?" You asked.

"I think it was for both of us." Okoye was on her feet now standing right over you. "I thought I was going to lose you. Why did you go on such a dangerous mission alone?"

"I'm a War-dog Okoye it's my job" You answered without thinking about it.

"You could've died and my heart would've followed you to your grave y/n." She exclaimed lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. "I love you and I know this is your job, but please just proceed with more caution for me. You don't have to be a one-woman army."

Her confession brought a soft smile to your face as you attempted to sit up, but she pressed a firm hand to your shoulder pushing you back down. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that" You said with a light chuckle. "Are you going to kiss me? or do I need to do somethi-" Your empty threat was cutoff when she leaned down pressing her lips to yours. You brought a hand to the back of her neck lifting your head up a bit to lean more into the kiss. Her lips moved in sync with hers for a while as she cupped your face. It wasn't until the sound of the elevator coming down Okoye pulled away pressing her forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"Stay" she pleaded.

"For you of course my love" You whispered.

#mcu imagine #marvel imagine #black panther imagine #okoye imagine #okoye x reader

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amelikos · 2 months

Text

Really liking what they're doing so far with the basics and implementation tests with Liko and the others and how each test and Gym Leader they are facing pertains to their specific arcs as characters.

Liko's battles so far having her learn to enjoy the moment (VS Kaede, who is someone who holds back on some level just like Liko does) and allowing herself to go all out and using battles as a way to connect with her Pokemon's emotions which is her goal as a trainer (VS Chili). So her battles are more on the emotional side and deal with passion, which fits her development (especially since she is learning to find things she can be passionate about). Her test against Grusha will presumably deal with that too, since as far as I know, Grusha was passionate about snowboarding and eventually had to retire (in the games, at least), so we'll see how the anime chooses to use his character. He made a comment to Liko after seeing her battle against Chili in HZ056 ("if that's enough to raise your spirits, you must be pretty frigid"), which makes me think their battle could deal with "passion" in general.

Roy is learning to be more observant in general through his battles so far, and he is improving on the technical side of things. He realized that moves could be added to one another, and that battles could be made together with his opponent. Him facing artists of all kinds (Colza, Hassaku and eventually Ryme) also shows that he is learning to perfect his craft as a trainer and taking his time instead of rushing in. (Also, I like that it's specifically Roy who faces the trainers who are artists. You'd think that maybe since Liko likes drawing and has an affinity with art, she'd be more connected to these characters, but it's Roy who is involved with them and it fits really well with his arc.)

With Dot, I like that she is feeling frustration for different reasons during her battles so far. She was frustrated that she lost against Nanjamo in HZ050 but admits that she had fun. She was frustrated that she won against Poppy in HZ055 because she felt like her victory wasn't truly hers and that she couldn't have done anything by herself. And it looked like she was a bit frustrated after her battle against Aoki in HZ059 because she felt she was close to potentially defeating one of his Pokemon. I feel like she is starting to want to win too. Makes sense that she is going through these stages of frustration which will push her to want to improve as a trainer since she only came out of her room to travel outside in this chapter. Liko and Roy went through similar stages before too (Liko was frustrated at not being able to defeat Amethio in HZ007, and Roy felt something similar too when Rayquaza wouldn't look his way back in HZ033 for example, and both times it motivated them to grow stronger).

Also, I was kind of wondering why Dot was made to face Aoki for her implementation test at first, but I like the contrast with him and Nanjamo. Nanjamo is a streamer so she is someone who draws attention to herself and likes standing out, while Aoki is the complete opposite of that and takes pride in not standing out and being a regular person. So this kind of fits Dot in different ways.

#genuinely liking what they're doing with this course so far tbh #i love how the writing explores battles in different ways and in ways that are relevant to the trio's personal development #instead of making them the same thing #they each learn different lessons out of their battles #and with roy and ryme for example you really get the feeling that it's been preplanned for a long time #ryme being his last tester is naturally built towards and they probably waited for this specific confrontation for hogator's evolution #(presumably if he is evolving there)#also loved how nanjamo told dot directly what she wanted to teach her #and aoki taught her in a roundabout way and let her think for herself etc #liko #roy #dot #pokemon dot #hz059 #character notes #episode notes

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majorsoapfan · 23 days

Note

⭐️🥰

Ok, since I've been given the license to choose, I'm going to give you the director's cut about my interpretation of Festus and Coral's relationship. The fic that I'm focusing on for this is Play At Your Own Risk, however for every canon-ish AU that I've written, am in the process of writing or have plans to write, where there is a focus on Festus and Coral's dynamic, I do follow the same dynamic so to speak (so they've definitely been on my mind for a while).

This is going to be very long, but you asked for the director's cut so, you've been warned.

Now, in terms of Festus and Coral's dynamic, at least from what I've shown in my works so far, the paragraphs from 'Play At Your Own Risk' that can sum up their relationship dynamic, in particular, Festus' thoughts towards Coral, is this:

'Then finally, came the Mentors. She knew that they were coming because if the songbird had gotten one, then it was reasonable to assume that so would everyone. Although if she had had the choice, then she would rather have no Mentor at all rather than the one she had gotten. Because hers was a creep. A complete and utter creep, who made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver run down her spine as she observed the way that he had looked at her, the gestures he made towards her, the words he used to describe her.

She had always thought that the Capitol saw the Districts as something less than human, not quite people like they were, but she was pretty sure that her Mentor didn’t even see her as that. To him, she was probably at best, an object, a possession, something for him to shape and mould in any way that he desired.'

And I'll admit, my inspiration for this stemmed from both the movie and book and from a gifset I saw here on Coral and Festus' first meeting in the film, where the creator made a mistake and had put 'desirable' instead of 'marketable' in Festus' lines. However, I'll admit, it took me a while to realise that it was a mistake, simply because 'desirable' didn't look too different or too off from what Festus had said, and if I hadn't seen the movie, and had just seen that gifset when going by my knowledge of the characters in the book alone, then I genuinely could have seen Festus saying desirable in the film and it looking natural.

Because both 'marketable' and 'desirable' both have connecting factors in what the Mentors are aiming to do with their tributes during the 10th Hunger Games. Their project after all, is for their tribute to be entertaining, therefore it would be obvious to Festus (in his own mind at least) that he needs to market Coral to the Capitol (marketable), he needs to make them want her or want to see her (desirable), otherwise he won't stand a chance at winning the Prize.

I'll admit that the word choice used in the film also felt to me a little like foreshadowing/an easter egg for the audience when referencing to how the tributes are basically marketed to the Capitol in the later Games, with the Capitol population starting to desire the more physically attractive Victors (Finnick, Cashmere, Johanna). Especially when one thinks about Finnick, who was also from District 4, seems to have been 'marketed' as 'desirable', at least after his victory.

(I also headcanon that Coral is actually related to Finnick, through his maternal side. That she's his grandaunt [her brother being Finnick's maternal grandfather] - there's no basis for this really than my own crazy mind connecting dots that aren't there. And if you believe the headcanon that Mags and Coral were friends/romantically involved before Coral was Reaped - which I do, it makes Mags and Finnick's bond that much sadder on Mags side as she would have Mentored Finnick through his Games, haunted by the reminder that she lost a relative of his, someone who was very close to her and she loved deeply, to the Games as well. And then by the time the 75th Games roll around, all of Finnick's family seem to be dead, making Finnick her last living connection to Coral. Finnick's Games and subsequent victory also would have haunted both Festus and Persephone then if they were still alive at the time as both of them would have seen their own dead tribute in him [Coral - family ties and Mizzen - youth and gender] and would have been reminded of their own failures towards their tributes whenever they saw him.)

Admittedly, all of that are just my wild thoughts so please feel free to just write me off as crazy.

However, crazy thoughts or not, it has influenced the way that I write Festus and Coral's relationship, as it highlights the power dynamic that is in place here between the two in the fic (and really any canon setting AU that I write).

Because as Coral hit right on the head in the paragraphs from the fic, Festus doesn't truly see her as a person. He doesn't truly consider her as a human being with her own thoughts and opinions. Right now, he sees her at worst, as an object or a product that he can advertise or market any way he wishes, or at best, an inferior being or animal that he can train and who will act exactly as he tells her to, regardless of whether or not that's who Coral personally is and her own thoughts about this situation and his ideas (another hint to the future fate of the tributes and victors by the time of the Hunger Games trilogy, how they're forced to adopt a marketing strategy so to speak in their interviews to try and get sponsors to help them survive the Arena regardless of their actual personalities and how many of the Victors might have fake personas that they present to the Capitol after they win to protect the last bit of individuality and self that they have from the greedy and entitled grips of the Capitol).

As far as Festus is concerned, Coral has no say, no right to voice an opposing opinion to his plans. She has no choice and he will be making the decisions from here on out when it comes to her well-being and for or the Games.

And then, what makes it worse for Coral here is that Festus can. He has the power to do exactly that. He has the power and the control to mould Coral in any way he wishes. And if Coral wants to give herself a fighting chance at survival (or to give Mizzen the best chance, which means she needs to keep herself in the best shape possible), then she can't go against him. She can't tell him no or try to fight back and/or argue with him.

Festus holds all the cards in this situation. The cards that could spell the difference between Coral's life and death here in the Capitol. Coral after all, is a starving kidnapped child, who is being chained and locked up, with guns being pointed at her constantly, away from her home and her family, with the looming knowledge that death will more than likely be coming for her, as well as trying to look out for Mizzen to in this dangerous environment for them both.

Festus on the other hand, is older than her (only by two years, yes, but as he's eighteen, he is legally an adult, whereas Coral is sixteen it seems and a minor). He is a member of an influential Capitol family and has freedom, perks, powers and comforts that Coral would never have even back in District 4 and as her Mentor holds her life in his hands, holds power over her and she knows this deep down even if she refuses to admit it in the fic.

Because to admit it, would mean admitting that she is vulnerable, that for the first time in her life, she is unable to defend herself and almost entirely dependent on the mercy of a stranger who she has no reason to believe would be merciful. And for someone like Coral, that is agony.

And in 'Play At Your Own Risk', Coral has no trust that Festus will truly help her survive the Games, so Coral needs to take care of herself.

I tried to show to this in particular through the topic of food, the main focus of the fic. Throughout 'Play At Your Own Risk', Coral is watching as the other tributes, already starving, battle between giving in and performing for food, chance that the Capitol citizens might be willing to simply hand it over without giving them something in return, or stubbornly hold on for a little longer. At first she resists going to the visitors to try and obtain food for as long as she can, but after her first meeting with Festus, where she hadn't received anything from him, hunger wins out and she tries her luck with the visitors when she gets back to the zoo.

Because she knows now that she can't count on Festus for help.

After all, technically Festus as her Mentor, should be invested in making sure she's well fed if she's going to have a chance at winning the Games. But that's not what the Mentors are interested in. Not really, going by the requirements of their project. As theoretically, Coral doesn't have to be the last one standing in the Arena for Festus to win (obviously though, the longer your tribute lives, the better your chances at winning. Now admittedly, their tribute living until the end and being entertaining seems to have been slowly intertwined in the quest for the Prize when it hadn't been originally going by the project's aims), she just needs to have been the most entertaining.

There's the difference.

Once again, tying back to Festus' first words to her in the film, he wants to win, therefore she needs to be marketable. She needs to be entertaining. Living until the very end? Maybe.

And for the Mentors, their competition started at the Reaping, they're already competing, therefore they want their tributes to put on a show. To entertain the crowds. Win them that prize. And it's possible that Mentors like Vipsania and possibly Androcles, deliberately didn't feed their tributes at the Zoo to make them perform for it in front of the citizens, as it would make them entertaining and memorable and therefore would better their chances at winning. Who's to say then that Festus hadn't considered the possibility too?

Festus, like Vipsania, seems to be competitive. He canonically likes dogfights and considered that betting on the Hunger Games would liven things up, hinting that he often betted himself. He also wanted Coral to do well in the Games, both for the Prize and for his own glory and had clearly been thinking of ways to achieve that prior to meeting her. Henceforth the way that Coral describes his behaviour towards her in their first meeting in the fic, the way he makes her feel and how he sees her as an object to control.

Festus wants Coral to win him the Prize, but when he first met her had never considered bringing her food to help keep her strength up for her to fulfil the task (not saying that she would, but logic would rule that a well-fed tribute would have the energy to be entertaining over a weaker and starving one). His reasoning for which I didn't show as Coral obviously wouldn't know and wasn't about to ask. I also left it unclear as to how much Coral knows about the Mentor's project/Prize (i.e. be entertaining), but at the end of that meeting, she knows enough:

Festus holds her life in his hands, she is subconsciously aware of this even if she doesn't voice it. Festus could be the key to her survival in the Games, but the same time she holds no trust that he'll actually help her. After all, he never gave her food, while she furiously notes that other Mentors did.

And in doing so or not doing so, Festus lost the only opportunity that Coral might be willing to give to him in terms of trust. Therefore by going to try and obtain food from the visitors at the zoo after, she's trying to make herself less vulnerable/at his mercy.

Coral might be powerless to stop Festus from 'marketing' her to the Capitol, but by trying to get food from the visitors without performing and not waiting and hoping for Festus to show up, she is trying to make herself less dependent on him and reduce the power that he holds over her well-being.

She has no reason to trust that he has her best interests at heart after all.

Now that's not to say that I think that Festus would be nothing but a horrible monster to Coral either. He has a softer side to him too after all (in the book as the film tried to erase it); he was one of the kinder classmates to Sejanus which had been considered unusual due to Sejanus' isolation from his peers due to being from the Districts and he was initially angry with Clemensia for not feeding Reaper in the Arena, even though a starving Reaper would be to Coral's and therefore his own, advantage. And I think after Coral's death, in the film especially, Festus would be haunted by her ghost and her last words for the rest of his life.

And Coral in the book clearly developed some trust towards him as she does ask for and receive food from him when she was in the Arena, so an understanding clearly had been reached between them. But Coral, as of the end of 'Play At Your Own Risk', and many of my other fics, has not reached that point in her relationship with Festus and therefore has no reason to trust someone from the Capitol who views her as a possession or something to control will actually help her.

I hope that makes sense.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coral #coral tbosas #festus creed #asks #ask game #play at your own risk

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