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ak-vintage · 3 months

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Quarry - Chapter 20

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, canon-typical violence and peril

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: Following along with the canon timeline, this chapter overlaps heavily with the events of the season 2 episode "Chapter 15: The Believer." You will notice borrowed dialogue and synced plot points.

---

“I did an initial scan of the planet.”

In the dim light of the navigation room, Boba Fett swiped through the holographic display hovering above the console. With his helmet tucked militantly under his arm, the pale blue image cast shadows along this rugged face. You watched as the holoprojector shifted from a three-dimensional rendering of the planet Morak to show the harsh, duracrete exterior of a mining facility constructed right along the edge of a massive waterfall. Pointing at the structure, he rasped, “This is what you’re talking about, right?”

The full crew compliment of the Firespray hovered around the console, each of you feeling a bit more sober, a bit more serious than you had in days as the reality of what you were about to do began to set in.

You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base. With a team of six.

“Yeah, that’s the refinery right there,” Mayfeld confirmed with a nod.

Fennec shifted on her feet, her expression grave as she examined the holo-rendering. “Wonder what they’re refining in there?”

“Looks like rhydonium.” Boba frowned. “Highly volatile and explosive.”

The inmate scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as usual unable to remain somber for very long. “Yeah, kinda like this one, huh?” he snickered, nodding in Cara’s direction.

You swore you could hear your eyes roll at his tasteless joke, but otherwise, the comment was met with silence. Both Boba and the marshal hit him with withering stares, while Fennec and Din appeared committed to pretending like they hadn’t heard him. Mayfeld grimaced then shrugged at you, as if to say, “Well, you can’t win them all.”

“They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it,” Boba said, pointing out the armaments stationed on the roof of the facility.

Fennec nodded. “And a full platoon of security forces.”

Your stomach tightened, and you swallowed thickly against a wave of unease.

Okay, correction, you thought. You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base with a full compliment of troops and a robust defense system. With a team of six.

While tension seemed to be high among everyone else in the room, Din appeared…shockingly calm. Not at ease, exactly, but rather focused, centered, determined. He seemed more himself to you in that moment than he had in weeks, since that disastrous day on Tython, as though finally having a goal in front of him – something to do – had brought him a sense of purpose that he had been lacking. Something about that stillness, that confidence calmed you, eased the way for your breath in your chest. There was no one in the galaxy you trusted more than him. If he felt good about your chances, then so did you.

“So, we go in quiet,” he said simply, steadily. “Let’s go get a closer look.”

---

Boba set the Firespray down a handful of kilometers away from the refinery, nestling the ship in a snug little clearing on a rainforest-covered hillside, and after a short trek to the top of that hill, the group of you set up a stake-out of sorts, using the height and remoteness of your vantage point to observe the mining operations. It wasn’t long before you determined that the refinery was supplied with shipments of rhydonium from the mines to the south, and the shipments were delivered at regular intervals using long, segmented vehicles that from this distance looked more like caterpillars than mining transports. Each segment featured two massive, chain-covered tires, which had worn a well-defined path through the rainforest, digging deep grooves in the rich soil through overuse. The surrounding forest had clearly been decimated to make way for these makeshift roads, and dead trees and shredded vegetation lined the edges. The unnaturalness of the sight set your teeth on edge.

Once it became clear how the rhydonium made its way into the refinery, a plan began to form. You would need to disable one of these mining transports while it was out of sight of anyone tracking its progress, and two people from your group would need to replace the troopers inside. Thankfully, there was a tunnel nearby where the road cut straight through a steep hillside, so that part of the operation should be fairly simple to achieve.

What was not quite so simple, however, was determining exactly who would be replacing the transport’s two-person crew.

At first, it was Mayfeld and Cara, but then Cara was nixed because of her alliance with the New Republic. Her genetic signature was on their register, and apparently these sorts of facilities were equipped with security technology that would sense it and trip the alarm. When Fennec was proposed as an alternative, she confessed that she was wanted by the Imperial Security Bureau and would, therefore, trip the security net, as well.

Boba, of course, was a no-go, as well, as his face and his voice were so well-known that his true identity would immediately be detected, regardless of his genetic signature. And you? Well. No one even mentioned the possibility of you accompanying Mayfeld into the refinery.

You supposed it was just as well – your marksmanship was still spotty at best, and a few weeks of hand-to-hand combat lessons did not a competent fighter make, so if things went south, you truly would be a liability more than a support. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sore over the whole thing, not at your friends but at yourself.

It had never been more apparent that you were cut from a different cloth than these people, that the things that made up your body and your mind were not the same as the things that formed them. You had told Din that for him, you would be a warrior, and you still meant it, but every once in a while, something would happen that would remind you of just how far you had to go to get there, and the realization would ache like a wound inside your ribcage.

As the bickering and debating rose in volume around you, Din’s voice cut through the noise with an authority that would not be ignored.

“I’ll go.”

The group fell silent, and you felt your jaw drop open, your brows rising to meet your hairline. There was no way – Din couldn’t –

Mayfeld seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. “Hey, buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards,” he scoffed dismissively. “So unless you’re gonna take off that helmet, it’s gonna be me goin’ in alone. Or say good-bye to your little green friend.”

Your gaze jumped to the bounty hunter, studying the breadth of his pauldrons against the lush landscape. He carried himself like someone who had already made up his mind, and the weight of that decision was already pressing on him, weighing him down.

“You’re not going alone,” he refuted. “I’m coming with you. But I won’t be showing my face. The transport crew wear helmets – I can see them.” He tapped the side of his own helmet with his forefinger, pointing to his opaque black visor. “They look like Storm Trooper helmets. No one will be able to see my face through one of those.”

His assertion hung in the air for a moment, and you glanced around at your companions, taking in their expressions. Fennec and Boba appeared as stoic as ever, but while Cara looked concerned, her dark brows drawn inward and her mouth turned down, Mayfeld could only be described as flabbergasted.

“You gotta be kidding me. You wanna take off your precious armor…and put on a Trooper get-up instead?”

“‘Want’ might be too strong a word. But it doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

From there, the conversation became about logistics – how Din and Mayfeld would board the transport, how they would take out the existing crew, what they would do with their bodies, and so on, a conversation which was primarily spearheaded by Cara. While she walked the group through the rest of the plan, Din closed the distance between the two of you, wrapped his hand around your elbow, and led you gently away from the crowd.

After you were some distance away, he ducked his head down to your level and murmured, “I’m going to ask you to stay on the ship with Fett, cyare.”

You offered him a lukewarm smile in return. “I know. It’s okay, I was going to suggest that anyway.” Breaking his gaze, you found yourself staring down at his cuirass, tracing the edges of the gem-like beskar segment that rested directly over his breastbone with your eyes. “I don’t want to be a liability to the mission.”

The hand around your elbow contracted. “I don’t see you that way.”

“I know you don’t, but the last thing I want is for my being there to…be a distraction for you or put you in more danger than necessary. And Fennec and the marshal are more than capable of handling the long-range support on their own.” Fennec was, you knew, a renowned sniper, and with Cara’s almost absurdly large, heavy-repeating blaster rifle, the distance was sure to be no issue for her. Your novice skills with your small hand blaster were laughable in comparison. “I’ll just…read through my notes on Gideon’s light cruiser some more. Maybe by the time you guys get back, I’ll have some more solid ideas about how to make boarding and disarming it easier.”

At that, the bounty hunter dragged his hand from your elbow up to your face, cupping your head in his wide palm, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes once more.

“We won’t be long,” he promised. The warm, worn pad of his thumb traced over the apple of your cheek, and you brought both of your hands up to wrap around his wrist. The cool, ridged beskar of his vambrace bit into the calloused skin of your fingers as you anchored him to you, loathe to let him go.

“Din.” His name was a whisper on your breath, both a testament to your overwhelm and a prayer for privacy, a hope that no one would hear the intimacy of this moment and the use of his true name here, out in the open. “Be safe. Please.”

Something like a laugh, weak and gravelly, filtered through his helmet. “I’ll do my best, gotabor’ika.”

You might have said more, might have declared more, but before you could open your mouth again, Mayfeld’s sharp, acerbic voice cut through the softness of the moment like a hot knife.

“Hey. Lovebirds.” You glanced over at him with a frown, finding him standing a few feet away, staring at the two of you with his arms crossed over his thick chest. “C’mon, we gotta get a move on if we want to make it in on one of today’s transports.”

You felt your stomach drop at the reminder, and your fingers dug into Din’s beskar of their own accord, a silent protest at having to let him go knowing what a risk this was, what dangers awaited him inside the refinery.

But Din did not hesitate. Instead, he nodded curtly in Mayfeld’s direction, leaned down, and pressed the forehead of his helmet delicately against yours.

The familiar, loving gesture soothed your nerves, and you allowed your hands to release him finally as he drew back, bringing himself back up to full height once more.

In the distance, Mayfeld made a dramatic noise of disappointment. “What, no headbutt good-bye for me, sweetheart?”

The irreverence startled a laugh out of you, and you shook your head incredulously. “You be careful, too, Migs.”

“Careful? Me?” The inmate winked at you flirtatiously, bright blue eyes twinkling in the sun. “Never.”

---

As the only ones returning to the ship, you and Boba were the first to break away from the group. The short walk back down the hill was a silent affair, the former bounty hunter on high alert as he scanned the vegetation with vigilant eyes, and you were quite content to keep it that way. You found yourself far too tied up in knots over this infiltration plan to be very good company. Thankfully, he had never struck you as much of a conversationalist.

Of course, this wasn’t your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men. It wasn’t even your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men in full beskar, so you took comfort in knowing that his silence likely had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his own disposition. On any other day, those glaring similarities to your early days with Din on the Razor Crest might have sparked your curiosity, might have encouraged you to push against the edges of that comfortable silence in an attempt to get to know him better. But today? Today you were festering with entirely too much anxiety to try to get chummy with the older man.

When Boba excused himself to the cockpit, eager to get back behind the helm in case he was needed, you didn’t protest. Instead, you settled into one of the small handful of jump seats in the navigation room, drawing your datapad from your pocket and attempting to make good on your promise to Din – that you would spend this time refining the plan for boarding and subduing Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. However, it wasn’t long before you were back on your feet again, unable to keep still as thoughts of Din and Mayfeld and that looming Imperial base swirled in your mind.

You lost track of time then, the echo of your boots against the durasteel flooring dissolving into the background as your feet carrying you steadily from one end of the room to the other. It was hardly a conscious decision, but somehow the movement was soothing.

“I can hear you wearing a hole in my decking in there, little one.”

You seized immediately mid-stride, your gaze snapping to the open door into the cockpit where Boba lay on his back in the pilot’s chair, staring up at the controls and the viewport facing the sky. He couldn’t see you from where he was, but apparently, that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to you. A flush blazed up the back of your neck as you stammered, “Oh. Ah – sorry, I’ll…cut it out.”

You heard him shift in his seat, as though he was angling himself to look back at you, but before he could say anything in return, a high-pitched alarm sounded from the console before him. You could see the flashing red light from where you stood, its glaring reflection bouncing off of the metal of the open doorframe.

“Blast…” he grumbled, and you could hear the rapid pressing of buttons and flipping of switches.

Your years of expertise had your ears perked up as you almost instinctually started trying to identify the problem, to pick out the pitch and the frequency of the alarm and try to match it with any of the standard alarm codes you were familiar with. “Everything okay in there?”

“Fine. One of the drive engines’ coolant lines is leaking again.”

“Again?” Your brows rose in apprehension as you came to hover outside the cockpit door. “Is this…a regular occurrence?”

A low, frustrated sigh crackled through Boba’s helmet vocoder as he fussed with the still-protesting console. “Recently, yes. She’s been doing this ever since I got her out of dry dock.”

Ah. That would explain it. Kuat drive engines were known for their longevity, but even they had their limits. “How long was she in storage?” you asked, your worries about Din and Mayfeld and the Imperials feeling further away as that old, familiar drive to solve the puzzle, to fix what was broken came to the surface once again.

He was silent for a moment, seemingly needing to add up the time in his head on the spot. “‘Bout five years, give or take.”

Not terrible, you thought. “And how long before that were the lines replaced?”

Boba twisted around in his chair at that, looking at you over his shoulder with something that you interpreted as incredulity. With the frankly odd design of the Firespray, this had him looking down at you while you stared up at him from the navigation room floor, the sight giving you a bit of vertigo as your neck craned upward.

“Not sure,” he admitted after a beat.

The offer was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “You want me to take a look at them for you?”

His reply was quick and gruff, though not unkind. “I do my own repairs.”

Damn. You shrugged, tamping down the immediate swell of disappointment. “Suit yourself.”

This was a unique ship, entirely one of a kind after all of the custom modifications Boba had made to it over the years. The desire to get your hands on her hardware and untangle the web of original Kuat parts and aftermarket mods had been lingering at the back of your mind since you first stepped foot on the Firespray, and a part of you mourned that you might never get the opportunity to sink your teeth into that puzzle. Even so, a lot of pilots were particular about their ships. You couldn’t find it in yourself to fault him for not wanting someone that he hardly knew mucking around in his mechanicals.

Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “So what, every time this happens you’ve just been diverting everything from the busted line to a different one?”

Another series of button presses and switch flips in the cockpit, and the alarm fell silent. Boba released a sigh of relief, sagging back against his chair. “Until I can pick up replacement parts? Yes.”

“This ship has…what? Three F-31 drive engines?”

Glancing back over at you once again, this time the older man appeared impressed rather than dubious. “Yes, that’s right.”

“You know each of them requires a minimum of four functioning coolant lines or else you risk overheating and burning them out. Right?”

The angle of his helmet as he stared down at you told you all you needed to know about what he thought about your question. His voice low and gravelly, he replied simply, “Yes.”

You shrugged again, feigning nonchalance as you leaned against the bulkhead underneath the cockpit door. “‘Kay. Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Just what do you suggest?” Boba’s patience appeared to be wearing thin, as he had gone from gruff to growling almost in the blink of an eye, but something about it didn’t feel as intimidating with him hanging perpendicular in the cockpit like that.

“Don’t wait until you can replace the entire line. Instead of rerouting everything every time one of them blows, patch it,” you said bluntly. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but in my experience, it’s worth it. It’ll put less stress on your engines and let you run for longer in between maintenance stops.”

“Hm.” His response came across as more of a grunt than an actual word.

You could feel a hopeful little smile starting to pull at your lips. “What do you think? We’ve got, what? About 30 minutes before they’re ready for us?”

“More or less.”

“I can patch three of them in that time. I’ll do the rest for you at our next stop.”

Boba cocked his helmet at you in a gesture so reminiscent of Din that it almost had your heart stuttering in your chest. “Awfully cocky, aren’t you, little one?”

That flush from earlier returned in full force. This man was trouble. Shaking your head and praying that you looked more composed than you felt, you replied, “I like to think of it as confident.”

A warm, rasping chuckle filtered through his modulator. “Fine. Maintenance access tunnel is – ”

“At the base of the nav console, I know.” A thrill of victory coursing through you, you did not bother saying goodbye or asking any more questions. The moment you had his blessing, you were off like a shot, rounding the navigation console and hauling up the panel of decking just in front of it. You dropped into the dark, dusty crawlspace without a thought, and for the first time since the Razor Crest went up in flames, you felt a sense of rightness settle over your bones.

There was nothing quite like the bowels of a starship to make you feel at home.

---

As you had guessed from what little you knew of the Firespray’s original design, the vast majority of the ship’s mechanicals could be found in the wide, flat oval dish that made up approximately two-thirds of the ship’s body. Also as you had guessed, most of the ship’s original parts, at some point or another, had been either heavily modified or gutted and replaced entirely, leaving the inside of the dish a disorganized hodgepodge of panels, wires, and tubing.

Well, perhaps “hodgepodge” wasn’t giving Boba enough credit. All of the work you encountered as you shimmied your way through the access tunnel had been neatly and meticulously done by someone who clearly knew this vessel inside and out – cables were deftly tied together and bracketed to the bulkheads, there wasn’t a single tube hanging dangerously across your path, and everything looked relatively clean, like it had been well sealed against the elements - though you admittedly struggled to make heads or tails of where he had installed each of the many aftermarket parts. For example, you were certain that the central life support systems were not designed to be housed right on top of one of the power generators, leaving them vulnerable if the generator were to surge. You supposed, over time, he had simply started making things fit wherever he could, whether it made the most parsimonious design sense or not.

Once you scurried your way through the crawlspace far enough to reach the drive engines, it took you a moment to locate each of their associated coolant lines, but once you did, the repairs proceeded smoothly from there. It was blatantly obvious which ones had worn through, and you found yourself feeling relieved that you had suggested this solution when you did. The largest of the three engines – the oblong one situated above the two round boosters – was down to a mere two functioning coolant lines. You prioritized the repair of that one first, patching where the aged, brittle tubing had split along its seaming.

Time melted away as you worked, the dim light that filtered through the deck plating strangely soothing, and just as you were crawling back toward the access hatch, the sharp snap of Fennec’s voice sounded in the far distance.

“We’re on,” she said over the cockpit’s commlink. You could hear blaster fire in the background, the sound making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Start your run.”

Boba’s response was quick and decisive. “On our way.” A beat of silence, and then, “Time’s up! Get away from the engines!”

A bolt of adrenaline shot through you, and you doubled your speed back through the crawlspace. A few seconds later, you hauled yourself up and out, sliding the deck panel back in place over the gaping hole in the floor. “It’s done!” you shouted up to the cockpit, no time to get to the comms panel. “Get us in the air!”

Beneath your feet, you felt the rumble and the hum of the drive engines engaging, and all around you, your surroundings began to shift. As Boba took the Firespray from laying flat on its back between the rainforest mountains to standing upright in midair, the navigation room remained stationary, the cockpit rotated to the space directly above you, and the wide transparisteel viewport dropped from the ceiling to the forward wall. Unlike when you had first come aboard, the sight didn’t make you dizzy or nauseous anymore. Instead, it simply filled you with awe, and you watched with wide eyes as the tops of the trees around you began to streak past at incredible speeds as Boba took off for the refinery.

Even in-atmosphere, the Firespray proved to be an almost laughably fast vessel. She cut through the humid air like a hot knife through butter, skimming and arcing around the mountainous terrain with an agility that even much smaller ships would be envious of, and with some deft piloting, it seemed to take less than a minute for the refinery to appear beneath the viewport. What you saw there, however, chilled whatever thrill of pride you might have felt as the speed of your rescue.

Two figures dressed in all black plastoid armor – one wearing a helmet, one very conspicuously not – had just heaved themselves up onto the refinery’s roof from a precarious ladder mounted to the side of the duracrete building. In pursuit, you counted no less than eight different Imperial combatants, all of whom had blaster rifles trained on the figures in black. Streaks of bright red blaster fire shot across the space between them, more than you could count, and you watched as the two retreating figures broke into a frantic run.

Heart in your throat, you darted over to the nav console and slammed your hand down on the internal comms panel. “We can’t land on that roof, Boba, there’s too many people!”

“Not planning on it, little one.”

More blaster fire erupted across the rooftop below, but the Firespray paid it no need. Swinging around to the front of the refinery, Boba guided the ship up and over the building. Glued mere inches from the surface of the viewport, you were transfixed as the pursuing Imperials began to drop in quick succession, picked off one by one by long-range fire that you knew had to be coming from Fennec and Cara up on the ridge. Still, the figures in black ran, and as you drew closer, it confirmed what you had already suspected – it was Din and Mayfeld, as yet unharmed, sprinting across the roof as fast as they could manage. Relief shuddered through you, breath catching in your chest, and on instinct, you reached for the viewport, pressing your palm flat against the cool transparisteel. They were alive, and they were going to make it out.

Your hand had no sooner touched the viewport that it began to rotate upward again. Jumping back from the edge of the navigation room platform, the ship spun around you once more to return to a horizontal position. The exit ramp began to drop open, wind whipping through the yawning door, and you gaped in the direction of the cockpit as you realized what Boba had done.

He had backed the Firespray up to the edge of the rooftop, leaving the ramp open for Mayfeld and your Mandalorian to jump into the ship.

You were at the top of the ramp in an instant, heedless of the flying blaster rounds that pinged off the surface of the hull and skittered across your path. The two of them were approaching the edge now, running at top speed, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes with Din through the visor of the unfamiliar Imperial helmet.

“Jump!” you cried, your voice swallowed by the wind, by the roar of the Firespray’s engines, by the shrieks of blaster fire.

With all the force he could muster, Din flung himself off the edge of the roof and landed with buckling knees on the open ramp. He managed to keep his footing, glancing back over his shoulder to Mayfeld, and then the inmate was right behind him. Launching off of the rooftop with a shout, Migs crossed the gap between the refinery and the ship in a hapless bound, landing hard on his knees with a distressed shout.

“We’ve got them! Get us out of here!”

Boba was quick to comply with your frantic shout, immediately drawing the Firespray away from the conflict. You lurched forward with the sudden change in speed, staggering out onto the ramp and wrapping your hand around Din’s bicep to steady yourself. Together, the two of you drew a breathless Mayfeld to his feet, but even as he regained his balance, the frantic, wide-eyed expression on his face remained.

“You okay?” you asked, gripping his armored shoulder firmly to get his attention. His gaze snapped to yours, and then he was scanning your surroundings, as though looking for something.

“Hand me that cycler rifle,” he said urgently, pointing off to the side of the ramp door where Boba’s thin, long-barreled slugthrower sat propped against the bulkhead. Din nodded once, obeying the request immediately, and passed the weapon into Migs’s hands.

With a steady, centering breath, the inmate raised the weapon to his shoulder, settled his cheek on the stock, and stared down the scope. One quick, even pull of the trigger, and on the surface of the roof, a mining transport vehicle erupted in a ball of fire.

That one explosion triggered another, then another, then another – several successive shipments of rhydonium all detonating at once, and before you knew it, the entire refinery had been engulfed in flames.

You and Din made quick eye contact with each other over Mayfeld’s shoulder, both of you sensing the significance of what he had just done, but then the moment was over, and the bald man was dropping the weapon and leaning it back against the wall where you had found it.

“We all need to sleep at night,” he said simply. In an unexpected gesture of camaraderie, Din clapped him on the back once as he ushered all of you deeper into the ship.

The ramp closed behind you, and all at once, the fact that both of these men had infiltrated an enemy base and come back to you alive washed over you. You were on Din in an instant, throwing both of your arms around his shoulders and dragging him down to your level. You pressed your forehead to the grimy plastoid surface of his unfamiliar helmet, missing the cool smoothness of the beskar, but the warmth of his hands on your hips felt the same as they always had. Cupping the sides of his neck, you ran your thumbs across the high neckline of his stolen Imperial uniform, feeling just the barest scrap of hot, smooth skin on the very tips of your fingers.

“Din,” you murmured, soft and close, and you heard him release a sigh of relief, the tension melting from his shoulders like ice under the summer sun as he wrapped himself around you.

“Cyare.”

From somewhere off to the side, Mayfeld made an exaggerated, disgusted sound. “When are you two gonna go back to bein’ mad at each other, huh? Fuckin’ hell.”

You grinned, something akin to fondness swelling in your chest at the familiarity of his sharp, ribbing tone. Pulling away from the Mandalorian, you swept Migs into his own hug, squeezing his broad frame tight against you. This startled a laugh out of him, and he patted your back in a placating gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, sweetheart, I’m not tryin’ to have my ass kicked by your boy over there.”

You released him, giving his breastplate a good-natured shove. You had so many questions – had they been hurt at all, had they been able to obtain the coordinates they had been after, what had led to the shootout you had witnessed on the roof, what was with Mayfeld’s sudden decision to blow up the entire refinery? They all stood poised on the tip of your tongue, desperate to all spill over at once, but before you could even begin to untangle what you might want to ask first, Boba’s rasping voice echoed through the internal comm system.

“We got company,” he barked. “Hang on!”

The Firespray banked suddenly, sharply to the left, as though dodging something, and all three of you went flying as the floor lurched beneath you. You staggered backward, the deck rising up to meet you as you landed hard on your ass, Din grunted as his knees slammed into the floor right beside you, and Mayfeld yelped a curse as he swayed like a drunken man. The disruption lasted for a few moments, but as the ship evened out, the artificial gravity kicked in, giving you a sense of stability. You risked a glance out the front viewport then, a spike of fear shooting down your spine at the realization that you must have been pursued in your retreat.

It was as you had feared – sailing past the body of the Firespray were multiple, intermittent bursts of neon green laser canon fire. None had connected yet, but the fact remained that your escape from the refinery had not been quite as clean as you might have hoped. Someone was intent on not letting you get away.

Thankfully, it appeared that Boba had prepared for this. Beneath your feet, you felt a series of mechanisms engage, and somewhere far away, the groan of metal on metal sounded, like a door opening with great effort. A moment later, the whole ship rocked around you, and plumes of smoke bloomed from where behind the Firespray. Wisps of it floated up toward the viewport where you could see it, and you knew then that whatever had been chasing you, Boba had destroyed it.

---

“Well, looks like it’s back to the scrap heap.”

Mayfeld seemed resigned as you descended the ramp at his side, the Firespray having now landed at the rendezvous point where you were set to pick up Cara and Fennec. Din trailed behind, back in his beskar and looking much more like himself, and you exchanged a glance over your shoulder with him. You hated the idea of having to take Migs back to the penal world you had retrieved him from, and something told you that the Mandalorian might be feeling similarly. You weren’t certain what had transpired during their infiltration of the refinery, but whatever it was, it had seemingly shattered the tension between the two men, leaving them both behaving much less antagonistically toward each other after coming out on the other side.

You wished that the two of you had had an opportunity to be alone so you could ask him about it, but as it was, all you could really do was accompany him as he escorted the inmate back to Cara Dune’s side. As the New Republic marshal who had remanded him from prison, she would be the one to return him to custody.

As though summoned by your thoughts of her, Cara broke the treeline then, Fennec at her heels, both of them armed to the teeth with their long-range blaster rifles. You watched as her gaze landed on the three of you, her sharp features twisted into a smirk. Fennec simply nodded at you in acknowledgement and retreated into the ship.

“Thank you for helping,” Din said, entirely earnest when just a handful of days ago, such a sentiment would have been disingenuous. Mayfeld looked a bit bashful at the sincerity, and he shifted on his feet a bit in discomfort as he nodded.

“Yeah. Uh…good luck getting your kid back.” Turning to face Cara, the inmate grimaced and extended both hands toward her, wrists pressed tightly together in an imitation of binder cuffs. “All right, Officer. Take me back.”

You expected the marshal to produce a set of cuffs from her utility belt at that, but instead, she quietly studied the stubbly man before her, taking the measure of him as though suddenly seeing him through brand-new eyes.

“That was some nice shooting back there,” she quipped after a moment of tense silence.

“Oh, you saw that?” Mayfeld appeared almost embarrassed by the compliment, scratching the back of his neck as he squirmed under Cara’s intense gaze. “Yeah, that, uh, wasn’t part of the plan. Just…getting some stuff off my chest.”

The dark-haired woman nodded slowly, weighing his response, and then she turned to Din. Addressing him directly – and as though you and Mayfeld weren’t there at all – she said, “You know, it’s too bad Mayfeld didn’t make it out alive back there.”

Your jaw dropped, your gaze snapping from Cara to Din to Mayfeld and then back again, mind reeling at Cara’s words. Was she going to –

Din seemed to catch on before you did. It took no time at all for him to reply, “Yeah. Too bad.” Exaggerated. Like he was playacting, and poorly.

Migs seemed just as taken aback as you were. “What are you talkin’ about?” he snapped, his shoulders suddenly tense at the shift in the conversation.

The marshal, however, did not break eye contact with the bounty hunter and proceeded as though she hadn’t heard him. “Looked to me like Prisoner 34667 died in the refinery explosion on Morak.”

You huffed out a startled, breathless laugh as a wave of relief surged through you. Hand shooting out to grip the sleeve of his shirt, you whirled Mayfeld around to face you. “Go,” you whispered. You kept your voice down, as though trying to be discrete, trying not to draw the attention of either Din or Cara even though you knew they were right there, knew they could hear you just fine. “They’re letting you go!”

“Does that – does that mean I can go?” Migs asked aloud, his eyes still on the two figures in armor. “Huh? ‘Cause I will.”

Breaking character for a brief second, the Mandalorian wordlessly jerked his head to the side, indicating the forest path that Cara and Fennec had just emerged from. The inmate chuckled at that, finally glancing back at you with a relieved, disbelieving grin.

“All right. Okay.”

You squeezed his arm tightly, beaming back at him. Maker, this sweet, horrible, infuriating, pain-in-the-ass of a man. You had only had him in your life for a handful of days, and yet you felt as though you had been altered by his friendship. You had given you purpose, made you laugh, made you feel wanted when you had been so low, and you felt like a lighter, freer version of yourself now for having known him. And he had been willing to set aside his differences with Din to help you find Grogu, something neither of you would never be able to repay him for.

Migs Mayfeld was an asshole, but it turned out that he was also a good man.

Throwing caution to the wind, you yanked him toward you for a hurried hug, hoping the embrace conveyed all of the fondness and the well-wishes you sent along with him, and then you gave him a playful shove in the direction of the path. If he was going to go, it had to be now.

Mayfeld seemed to agree. He let you push him away, and then he was retreating down the path, arms out in front of him in a placating gesture that you knew was unnecessary now. Casting his gaze around to all three of you one last time, he sent you one final grin, a mock salute, and a half bow, and then he disappeared into the treeline.

You released a held breath then turned to Cara. Gripping her armored shoulder tightly, you breathed, “Thank you.”

A small smile quirking the corners of her lips, she inclined her head at you in acknowledgement but said nothing. Instead, she directed her next question at Din. “You get the coordinates on Moff Gideon?”

“We did,” he replied.

“What’s our next move?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, wondering the same thing. The bounty hunter shifted his weight on his feet as he considered his response. After a beat, he said, “I have someone else whose help we can use. Someone who might want Gideon dead even more than I do.”

Cara and you exchanged dubious looks, and you thought that both of you must be wondering just who would want the moff dead more than Din.

The marshal shrugged then, arching an eyebrow in Din’s direction. “Okay then. Color me intrigued.”

You supposed if you were planning to take on a whole Imperial light cruiser on your own, with just your small group, you could use all the help you could get, but there was something in the hesitance of the Mandalorian’s response that had you questioning just what you would be getting yourselves into by inviting this person to join your party. However, your trust in him had never failed you before, so you set aside your misgivings and nodded. Whatever he needed to bring your boy back, you were going to help him get it. No matter what.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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rainandandy · 3 years

Text

Chemtrails (Yelena Belova x reader)

Summary: You and Yelena are finally free from the mind control of being a black widow. How does everything fare out as you both return to Ohio to start a new life?

Pairings: Yelena Belova x reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers (Kinda platonic, kinda not), Alexei Shoskatoff x Melina Vostokova

Word Count: 1,862

Translations: Malishka (Baby), Krasotka (Beautiful), Liybimaya (My Love)

Masterlist

There were some people who had the idea that being on the run meant being scared, lonely, always on edge. Perhaps that is how it should have felt. You just felt like you were free. Free from being used in any way. They treated you as if you were just another pawn on the chessboard as if you were just another number to them. It is a piece that no one will remember.

Yelena too. The two of you had freed yourselves and the others from the harsh crutches of being a black widow. A killer and a trained spy in all the fields that a spy could be. Sly, sneaky, conniving, and murderous. There had never been a time when you had any control over your actions. Never being able to be yourself. Living life on the edge, skirting all over the world in a number of days. Killing people without a second thought, because you weren't able to control your mind. You weren't in control.

Until Yelena came along. Till she abolished the control over your mind and cut the tracker from your leg. Till she held you while your body wracked with sobs of finally being free.

She stayed with you, helped you recover physically and mentally. Patching up wounds with medical bits she found in gas stations. Driving stolen cars and motorbikes through the darkness of the night. A new city each day, hiding in rundown motels on the side of highways. Each one of them smelling worse than the previous one.

In the aftermath of Dreykov's death, you would keep your eyes on the news to make sure the black widows left over weren't doing any harm. Once you both reached Ohio, where she planned to meet up with her family and establish a base to free the black widows, you both could be free. Over the long nights of traveling and the days of laying low, you went from strangers to lovers very quickly.

You weren't sure when it happened, but she fell first. A glance at you that was once cold has become a loving gaze. As she learned what food you liked, she would be sure to bring it back from her grocery store runs. It was something you didn't notice at first. She changed her attitude towards you suddenly and when her touches on your wounds became lighter and she began to tell you more about her life, you too began to fall. You discovered why she was aiming for Ohio in the first place. In other words, she did not want to be what she was made to be. Both of your skills would only earn you dirty money, and she desperately just wanted to settle down. You did not talk about children between the two of you, but you frequently talked about a dog shelter.

As soon as you reached a small suburban home on the outskirts of Ohio, you and your partner quickly went into undercover mode. Posing as a newlywed couple, with her sister who is a part-time science teacher and her parents who are coming to welcome the new family. In the morning it appeared like bliss to the neighbors, but really it was at night when the family seemed to sit around and play Monopoly that they planned their roles for recovering the last of the black widows. The rest of the widows who had been freed would come over under the guise of being friends, but Yelena and you would give them money and new identification provided by Mason, so they could start their new lives. The widows wanted their chance to live a normal life, just as you and Yelena did. Many of those who rely on doing what they know only too well, choose to work with Melina in St Petersburg.

In less than a year, everyone was free. With the last of the widows freed, Dreykov's remnants were abolished. You and Yelena were finally free. As soon as the word was given you and Yelena marched straight down to the shelter where she picked a gorgeous American akita and Yelena straight away called her Fanny. When Natasha heard the name, she rolled her eyes and asked, "Really Yelena? I hate that name. You know how much I hate it. In response, Yelena hit back with an infamous "HA!"" and Fanny had now become a part of your dysfunctional family. Alexei and Melina flew in and out every few months, checking up on both of you or on some wild mission to find Captain America. It was much to Alexei’s surprise the day Natasha brought Steve Rogers home, posing as her husband.

“Papa, you remember Steve. My adoring husband" Each word spit back as fast as possible while making sure Alexei didn't start a mini war among them right under their noses. Natasha was extremely coy at first and you didn't know whether there was anything more than just friendship between them.

During their time at the Ohio house, Yelena and Natasha would relax in the small pool that is located out the back. Their tanned skin became more obvious as they raced in laps of the pool against one another under the scorching summer sun. The whole family had a good laugh when Steve wore swim trunks with the American flag on them and then had another fit when Alexei wore ones with the Russian flag on them. “I feel like all my dreams have come true” Yelena said hazily as she kissed your hand on the lawn chairs.

“What dream is that Krasotka?” you asked, smiling as you didn’t fully take in her deep words. “I have my family back” you felt the strings of your heart being pulled at the softness of the girl's words.

She pulled on your hand and led you to join her on the lawn chair, sitting in her lap. As she wrapped her arms around your waist, you looked up into the clear blue sky to see a distant plane leave a long white trail in the clear blue sky. “What are the white lines made of?" It was a question you asked aloud. "Maybe the government is slowly poisoning us with Dreykov's toxic chemicals," she said in a funny way, but you knew it was on everyone's mind. What if he wasn't really dead after all. What if the dream turned into a nightmare and you were no longer yourself. Your panic caused your breath to quicken its pace, and you touched the beautiful gemstones you wore around your neck. Some eastern culture your therapist had thrust onto you, rubbing some amethyst and turquoise would help ease the pain of the memories. In a manner of speaking, it did work, as it eased the nightmares little by little. There were times when holding those tiny stones felt like clutching a lifeline. You desperately try to hold onto this reality with Yelena as long as possible. The blissfulness of it all. Yelena became restless after losing the constant sense of action that had been part of her life. The excitement of going to the farmers market only lasted for a limited amount of time. It was one of those days when the rumble of an engine and the smell of gas broke your concentration from doing laundry, and you were met by a gorgeous vintage red Chevy pulling into the driveway. The look on Yelena's face was incomprehensible, which made you hard to believe that she had just went out and bought such an immaculate, expensive-looking vehicle. The car was a convertible and fanny sat in the back, her tongue hanging out, panting in the golden sun, as she sat there. "We are supposed to keep things on the low down" you whispered to your 'fake' wife, scolding her.

It's time to enjoy yourself, Malishka!"

You knew it was worth it when the rouge on her lips matched the color of the cherry red car. When she opened the passenger side door, she motioned for you to get into the car.

"No no, I think it's time for me to take this baby for a spin". You pushed her across the white leather as you got into the driver's seat and sat in it. There was a soft white leather under your grip on the wheel. "Don't you like it, sweetheart?" Yelena smirked at you as you adjusted the mirror while Yelena was chatting. Upon turning the key, the engine roared to life. "Shhh sweetheart, you'll pay for this later" and you took off racing down the avenues of white picket fences, passing children playing in the front gardens.

Families who seemed perfect on the outside but you knew that each one had their problems. As you reached well over the speed limit, with your hair blowing wildly behind you, you felt as if you were at liberty. It was impossible for those families to stop you from doing what you did. You could not be stopped by Dreykov. At that moment, all you wanted was to keep speeding along the winding roads while Yelena put her hands up, grasping at the invisible air. She was your sweet love. Your happiness. She made the freedom worth it. The winding roads soon gave way to a small clearing where you were able to park your car on the side of the road. The engine died slowly, and her smile was beaming back at you, pure happiness oozing from both of you. Fanny jumped out of the car, her paw pads crushing the gravel under her feet as she jumped. She trotted around sniffing at the new surroundings. In the company of Yelena, you made your way to a small bench that overlooked a valley. The sun was looking low and heavy as it was making its way towards the horizon for yet another day. The silence was relaxing, settling over you as you stared out at the sky. Yelena spoke openly from the heart or perhaps her soul when she said, "I am not religious, but if there is a god out there somewhere, I hope he lets it stay like this forever.". The truth is, she was never one to think of such things in this way, especially in regards to god, religion or even something as grave as losing what you had. "It's not going to happen. We have made it. Nothing could break us apart, Liybimaya”

I know, I know, I feel silly thinking about it when this perfect paradise is all around us; but I cannot help it.

"There is nothing wrong with contemplating God…. or our paradise…. If you have second thoughts-”

“No. God no.” She took a deep breath and replied, “That's not what I'm saying. I am terrified that I will wake up back in the red room. That all of this was just a dream"

You scooted over to her side of the bench and cradled her against you and said, "I'm real, baby.". The sun set, leaving you and your partner in the darkness, the streetlight flickering behind you. It is time for us to go home"

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nix-the-cryptid · 3 years

Text

Actions Have Consequences

Professor AU! Heisenberg x Gender Neutral! AFAB! Reader

Part three of my series

WARNING!! 18+ NSFW

Tags: Punishment, misuse of rulers, praise, on top of a desk, minor overstimulation, minor orgasm denial

Summary: Y/n ends up getting punished for some avoidable mistakes. But, it may or may not end up working out in the end.

During class, Y/n’s mind kept going back to what Mr. Heisenberg had said about “disciplinary actions” and having to work on Y/n’s “listening skills.” If they were honest, y/n was a little nervous. Heisenberg was known for being harsh on students who didn’t follow the rules or do their work properly. Getting yelled at by him was not something you admitted to freely. But, with how their relationship was working out, y/n realized that their “punishment” may end up being a bit different.

Thinking on their relationship over the past little while had y/n thinking about a lot of stuff. Ever since that first time together, almost two weeks ago, they almost always ended up having sex after class. Not that y/n minded, of course. But was that all there was between them? What would happen when classes were done for the year? Y/n graduated this year, too, so then what? The thought of never getting to spend time with Mr. Heisenberg like that made y/n’s heart sink harder than they realized. They enjoyed Professor Heisenberg’s company and it was becoming obvious they wanted more out of the relationship. But they doubted it would go over well if they brought this up with him. Y/n doubted that Mr. Heisenberg would want to commit himself to such a relationship with a student. The pain in y/n’s gut deepened at this thought, a lump catching in their throat as they felt like wanting to cry. Y/n quickly shook their head of the thought, coming back to reality.

Apparently, the class was meant to take some notes on whatever Mr. Heisenberg had presented but, just as y/n came to, it was over, and they hadn’t written down a single thing. Chances were Mr. Heisenberg most likely noticed at some point but didn’t say anything.

“Alright, now that we’ve gotten through that,” He exclaimed, grabbed his things from the desk. “Let’s head to the shop and work on those practical assignments. Maybe get them done today, yeah?” Y/n groaned as they began packing their things, noticing that there was still a whole 50 minutes left of class. 2pm simply could not come fast enough. They soon followed Mr. Heisenberg out the door and down to the lab, almost wanting to walk beside him but deciding against so as to not draw too much attention to themselves. Mr. Heisenberg was wearing a black t-shirt today, but like always, it was just a bit too tight on him. Y/n saw, just at the base of Heisenberg’s neck were some faint red marks. Squinting a bit to get a closer look, y/n soon realized that they had left those marks a couple days ago. They blushed furiously at this thought, wondering how many of the others might have noticed those marks at any point and if anyone had asked about them.

“Hey, y/n!” One of the other students, Leon, called out. He was one of the better students in the class and was nice enough. His voice startled y/n out of their staring at Mr. Heisenberg. He and Y/n had been working together on the current assignment. “Do anything fun last night?” Y/n had to suppress a small noise at this question, a small blush forming on their face. ‘yeah, totally! I got railed by Professor Heisenberg in the shop after class!’ they thought to themselves.

“Uh, no,” They laughed awkwardly, rubbing their neck. Leon’s face sank a bit at this. “Not really. I just went home and did some studying.” Leon just nodded. “I don’t go out much. And of course, by the time I get home and finish any work, I’m just too tired to really do anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Leon agreed. He then glanced at Professor Heisenberg for a bit before smirking. “Ya know, whoever left those scratch marks on his neck there,” He whispered to y/n making them blush deeply. “They’re one lucky fuckin bitch.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to let them know, Leon.” Heisenberg smirked, making Leon let out a squeak of embarrassment. Y/n did their best to stifle their laughter as Heisenberg unlocked the doors to the shop, letting everyone else enter.

“Well,” Leon exclaimed. “I can never look our Prof in the eye ever again!” y/n chuckled at this before blushing a bit more. ‘If only you knew,’ they thought. ‘If only you fucking knew.’

“Yo, Sir!!” Another student exclaimed. “Whose car is that?!!” Y/n furrowed their brow before noticing the Cadillac at the back of the shop. ‘funny, wonder who’s that is. It kinda looks like- OH NO!’ y/n’s brows shot up and their eyes widened. That was Professor Heisenberg Series 62, uncovered meaning y/n had forgot to cover it the night before like they were supposed to. ‘shitshitshit’ They looked over to Mr. Heisenberg, who had also gone wide eyed at the sight. ‘Now I’m really in for it after class.’ Heisenberg shot them a hard glare, signaling his disappointment at the scene. However, he quickly masked it before turning to the student who had noticed it.

“Ah, that beauty?” Heisenberg sighed. “She’s all mine! Brought her to get her working again. Didn’t have the equipment needed back home.” Professor Heisenberg explained. “Bitch needed a whole new engine, practically.” Y/n could feel the jealousy building with each word. Heisenberg looked at them and must’ve noticed as his expression softened a little. Y/n then watched a number of students rush over. ‘They’re gonna ruin the paint!’ Now y/n was angry. Not just with their classmates but with themselves for not putting the cover back on.

“Uh sir,” A female student piped up. “There’s a dent in the hood…” y/n’s eyes went wide. They knew exactly what that dent was from. Seeing Heisenberg’s face showed that he also realized what it was from.

“I must’ve been so busy repairing the engine, I must not have fucking noticed!” He laughed nervously. Y/n watched as Heisenberg blushed at this, their own blush forming as they tried not to laugh.

“Well, do you need any help with it, sir?” Leon asked.

“NO!” Heisenberg blurted out, rather fast and loud. Y/n let out a chuckle at this. “No, I’m close to being done. But you all could do better on your tests, I wouldn’t spend as much time having to mark them!” The class let out a collective groan, except for y/n. The pang of jealousy still sat heavy in their gut. And meeting Heisenberg’s gaze showed that they weren’t doing too well at hiding it. His stare was intense and dominating. Y/n lessened their pout a bit, but they were still upset with themselves over not covering the car and having everyone see it.

————————

“Alright see you Monday, everyone!” Mr. Heisenberg called out as everyone got up to leave. Y/n hung back, taking their time to clean up.

“Hey, y/n!” Leon called out, as he threw his bag over his shoulder. “I was meant to ask you if you wanted to hang out. A few of us are getting together at my place for the afternoon.” Y/n stammered a little, watching Professor Heisenberg pack up his own things. He glanced up, waiting for y/n’s answer. “I can give you a ride if you need. I know you walk to school and all so… It wouldn’t be any trouble.” As much as y/n knew they should socialize with their classmates, today was the absolute worst day to have been asked. They would’ve said yes but, they also didn’t want to be in anymore trouble with Mr. Heisenberg, no matter how enjoyable the punishment really would be.

“Uh, actually,” y/n started. “I’ve got another class today, so I’ll pass.” They looked back to Heisenberg to see him give another glance before continuing packing his things. Leon must’ve noticed this because he cocked a brow at y/n.

“I thought this was your last class,” He pondered.

“One of my other classes had to be moved to the afternoons recently.” Y/n lied. Leon’s expression neutralized at this, meaning he accepted it.

“Oh, okay. Maybe next time.” The other student shrugged. He then headed out of the class. Y/n let out a shaky breath before they turned back to their things and finished packing, hearing Mr. Heisenberg approach. They stiffened a bit but continued what they were doing.

“I’m disappointed, y/n,” he stated, coming to lean against y/n’s station. “First, you don’t listen before class. Then, I found out you didn’t cover the convertible?” Y/n hung their head in shame.

“I’m sorry, sir.” They replied, keeping their head bowed but peeking up at their professor. “I completely forgot to cover the car last night.” They heard Heisenberg scoff.

“You know I was going to wait until we got back to the classroom but after this, well, shit.” Heisenberg grabbed a hold of y/n’s chin, forcing them to look at him, smirking. “It looks like we’ll just have to settle things right. Fucking. Here.” Y/n gulped, slightly nervous about what was coming. “Get in my office. Now.” Heisenberg let go y/n’s face roughly and pointed to the office. “Go on.” With that, Y/n quickly headed to the small room, Professor Heisenberg close behind. “You’re normally such a good student, too. I’m shocked that you’d let yourself slip like this.”

“It won’t happen again, Mr. Heisenberg,” Y/n whined.

“Apologies aren’t gonna get you out of trouble that fucking easily, y/n.” Heisenberg growled as they entered the office. He made a show of slamming the office door shut and locking it. He also closed the blinds to the door but not the other windows. “So, we need to work on those listening skills of yours.”

“How?” Y/n asked sheepishly. Heisenberg just grinned as he took a seat in his office chair and began piling the rest of his papers together on the desk.

“Well, first, you’re gonna strip.” He ordered. Y/n made quick work of their clothes, watching Professor Heisenberg clear everything off the desk. They hadn’t noticed before, but the desk was metal, which meant the cold air from the AC in the shop had chilled it, even with everything on top of it. When Heisenberg finished, he turned to y/n and simply stared for a moment, taking in their naked body. Y/n shifted slightly, keeping eye contact with their professor. “Eager to please, as always.” Mr. Heisenberg chuckled. “Bend over the desk. Now. And pass me that ruler while you’re at it.” Y/n looked to the wooden ruler hanging next to the desk. Their eyes went wide when they realized what Heisenberg was planning on doing. Y/n simply passed the ruler to the professor and slowly leaned themselves over the desk. They winced a bit at the cold metal against their skin. However, the shiver that down their spine was not from the cold. Heisenberg chuckled at this, bringing a hand to their ass and began massaging it a bit. “You know what, hands behind your back. C’mon.” Y/n complied with haste. As they did this, Heisenberg’s hand left their ass. But before y/n could make any sound to protest, they heard the sound of Heisenberg undoing his belt. Turning to see just what he was doing, Y/n watched as Mr. Heisenberg stood up, took the ruler in his teeth, and used his belt to tie y/n’s wrists together. The leather of the belt bit into their skin just a bit, making y/n hiss a bit. They then looked up at Heisenberg to see him take hold of the ruler again, smirking. “You look so fucking nice like this, y/n! Now, I want to hear you count, got it?” Y/n nodded, gulping.

“Understood, sir!” Y/n blurted out. SMACK! “AHH! ONE!!” Y/n cried out, both in pleasure and pain. The force was brutal and sent them forward a bit, which made their nipples rub against the cold metal of the desk. This intensified the pool of arousal in their gut. SMACK! “TWO!!” Y/n sobbed.

“Ya know, maybe I should’ve let some of the other students help with the car,” Heisenberg mused, letting the ruler rest against the sore cheek. “Would’ve saved you some trouble.” He lifted the ruler up, waiting a bit.

“But sir-“ SMACK! SMACK! “AAAHH! THREEEEEFFFFOUR!” Y/n felt tears stinging their eyes. The arousal building up from this was growing fast. SMACK! “FIVE! Fuuuccckkk!” They heard Heisenberg laugh behind them. He then grabbed their tied hands and bent over them.

“Or would that have just pissed you off, kitten?” He growled in their ear. They whimpered as Professor Heisenberg pressed against their back, his hard cock rubbing up along their back. y/n let out a whine at the feeling. “All those students messing with your hard work, putting their fucking fingers all over the paint? I saw your face when everyone rushed over to it.” Heisenberg lifted himself back off of y/n, who groaned at the loss of contact. Suddenly, Heisenberg was rubbing the cheek slowly, as if trying to soothe the pain. “Ready to continue?” He asked, his voice somewhat gentle.

“Yes Mr-“ SMACK! “HEISENBERG!! FUCK, SIX!!” Now he was focusing on the left cheek. The tears that had welled in y/n’s eyes fell, finally as they lurched forward from the force of the hit. SMACK! “JESUS!! SE-“ SMACK! “-VENNNNEIGHT!!!” Y/n was full on crying, the pained pleasure causing the arousal in their gut to become a bit too much. Y/n felt themselves clench around nothing, their slick just soaking their folds and the insides of their thighs. SMACK! “NINE! FFFUUUCCKK MEEEEE!!!” Y/n sobbed, feeling themselves right on the edge of their orgasm.

“Oh?” Heisenberg purred, resting the ruler against their ass. “Is something wrong, Y/n?” Heisenberg knew exactly what was wrong. But watching y/n squirm and try to choke out an answer was too fun.

“Please sir, I’m so-“ SMACK!!! “CLLLOOSEEEFUCK!” Heisenberg slammed the ruler hard against both cheeks, with more force than the last ones. They screamed at this, so close to finishing and yet not close enough. It was almost torture. “TENNNNNNNN” Y/n sobbed, tears streaming down their face. They then heard the ruler be tossed to the side somewhere. Y/n then moved to push themselves off the desk as best they could when Mr. Heisenberg pushed their head back down. He then shoved his hand in between their legs, landing on y/n’s clit. “SIRRRRR” The screamed as he began to harshly rub the oversensitive bud. However, this only lasted a little bit, before Heisenberg pulled away. Y/n sobbed, merely wanting to come now.

“Shit, you really did enjoy that, huh?” Y/n could only whine in response “You did good, kitten.” He mused, untying their hands. “But we’re not done yet.” Y/n let out another whimper. “Sit up and face me.” Y/n then braced themselves and pushed up off the desk, their legs barely able to keep them upright. They then shifted themselves around to face Professor Heisenberg. As they went to sit, the cold metal against their raw cheeks stung fiercely. They shrieked at the feeling, which then turned in to a pained whimper. “Aww, is it cold against your bruised ass? Well, you’ll just have to endure it for a bit longer.” With that, Y/n watched as Professor Heisenberg began stripping, his pace slow. It was like he was putting on a show for y/n, who could only squirm against the cold desk. “Damn, what a fucking sight you are.” He growled as he slowly removed his shirt. “I’m still reeling from Leon’s comment earlier too.” He joked. Y/n blushed as they remembering what their classmate had noticed. “Part of me, a very evil part me, wanted to implicate that it wasn’t just anyone who left those marks.” Y/n whined, squirming more. “Bet that would’ve been quite the punishment on its own.” Heisenberg slipped off his boxers, stepping out of them and approaching y/n. “Oh, you know I would never do that to you, Kitten.” He purred, moving close to y/n, leaning over them to kiss them. His hand then made its way down to y/n’s pubic mound, his fingers slipping between their folds. Y/n moaned loudly at this, bracing themselves against Mr. Heisenberg as he began to run his fingers up and down their cunt, just missing their clit. They were extremely sensitive down there, as they had yet to come still. Heisenberg made quick work of their folds and clit, rubbing fiercely. “Come for me y/n.” With that, Y/n screamed out in pure pleasure, coming hard and drenching Heisenberg’s hand in their juices. Once they had started to come down, Heisenberg gently grabbed their waist and brought them both over to the chair taking a seat, placing y/n in his lap facing him. Once they did, he gently grabbed their ass and began massaging them. “How do you feel, y/n?” He purred as y/n wrapped their arms around his neck and rested their head against his chest.

“A bit sore,” Y/n whined slightly. "But, you seem to be in need of some relief.” Y/n purred as they attempted to push back against Heisenberg’s dick. The man groaned at this feeling, squeezing y/n’s ass a bit to keep them still. Heisenberg could see the exhaustion starting to take a hold of y/n but the feeling of their drenched cunt against his dick was hard to resist.

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself, Buttercup.” Heisenberg’s voice was soft as he went into kiss y/n’s neck. This made y/n hum in pleasure. “I was pretty fucking hard on you.”

“I want to, sir.” Y/n repositioned themselves over top of him, taking a hold of his dick. They slowly lowered themselves, the slow push hitting every nerve in their cunt. Both y/n and Heisenberg. let out a long and loud moan as they sat themselves down, taking in his full length.

“God, you feel so good, y/n” Heisenberg hissed, grabbing their waist, and gently lifting them up before pulling them back down, thrusting up a bit. Y/n gasped at the feeling, quickly wrapping their arms around Heisenberg’s neck again. Y/n then matched Heisenberg’s movements, lifting themselves up and coming back down. They felt themselves clench around his member, drawing a moan from his lips. “Fuck!” Suddenly, He grabbed Y/n’s legs and stood up. Y/n shrieked, tightening their hold on Mr. Heisenberg. He placed them back down on the desk, which was still cold, making y/n arch their back from the feeling. “Cold still?” Heisenberg joked, kissing their neck again.

“Yesss,” Y/n hissed, trying to grind down on Heisenberg’s dick since he wasn’t moving. “Please, sir.” They whined. Heisenberg lifted his head from y/n neck and looked them in the eye before standing up and pulling y/n’s arm off. “Please fuck me.” They begged. Heisenberg smiled as he grabbed onto y/n thighs before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in hard. Y/n let out a small scream that quickly turned into a moan as Heisenberg continued slamming into them.

“Always so perfect like this,” Heisenberg grunted, squeezing y/n’s thighs tight enough where there was a slight sting. Y/n whined at the sensation, tossing their head to the side. “Oh no, look at me.” Mr. Heisenberg growled, grabbing a hold of y/n’s chin, and yanking it so they were facing him. This caused y/n to gasp, grabbing onto his wrist. “I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours while I fuck you senseless.” Y/n moaned again, quickly locking their legs around Heisenberg and bringing him closer. As they did this, he took a hold of their waist with his other hand and lifted them up, shifting the angle. This caused his thrusts to hit deeper into y/n, making the pleasure increase. “You love this, don’t you? When I fuck you like this?” He growled, leaning forward a bit and pulling y/n’s face closer.

“Yes, sir!” Y/n moaned. Heisenberg gave a couple hard thrusts at this answer, drawing the moan out. “I love it when you fuck me, Sir!”

“That’s a good girl,” Heisenberg purred, letting out of y/n’s neck, and moving his hand down their side. “My good little kitten.” This drew another moan from Y/n, enjoying the praise. The hand that had snaked down y/n’s soon made itself known again as Heisenberg began rubbing their clit. The sudden feeling of his hand on their nub drew an incredibly loud gasp from them that then devolved into a whine, seeing as they were still somewhat sensitive there. “All the noises you make are. Just. Fucking. Perfect.” Heisenberg emphasized each of those words with a hard thrust. Y/n’s cunt then clenched hard around his length, making him moan as well, which turned into a small chuckle. “Do you like it when I praise you, Buttercup?” Y/n just nodded, unable to form a coherent enough thought to actually respond. Heisenberg just chuckled before leaning in for another kiss and picking up speed. Y/n mewled into the kiss, the sensation sending them right to the edge again. “Are you about to cum again, y/n?” Heisenberg asked softly, breaking the kiss. Y/n could only moan in response. “Well, then. Go on. Cum. But. Scream. My real name when. You do.” His hips stuttered as he spoke, making the words come out in moans. He then began thrusting even faster, bringing y/n over the edge.

“KAAAARLLL!” Y/n screamed, arching their back as they came. Heisenberg also came at this, thrusting as deep as he could and filling y/n. The warmth of his seed flooding y/n’s insides, making them moan even more. The two remained like that for several minutes as they came down and caught their breath.

“God, that was… shit” Heisenberg said, still somewhat breathless. He slowly pulled out and let go of y/n, pulling a whine from them at the loss. “Think you can stand, Buttercup?” He asked. Y/n lifted their head to look at him, nodding slightly. Heisenberg offered his hands for them to take and use him as leverage. Y/n sat up with a groan, the feeling of Heisenberg’s seed dripping out being an odd sensation. Professor Heisenberg opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a small rag, which he then used to wipe up any cum dripping down y/n’s legs. They moaned softly at the feeling, biting their lip, and crossing their arms over their chest. Once he was done, Heisenberg sat down in the office chair, beaming at y/n. “Come ‘ere, kitten.” Y/n pushed themselves off the desk and wobbled over into Heisenberg’s lap. “You did so well. Listened to everything I asked. A+ performance.” He purred, pulling y/n close to his chest, and stroking their hair.

“Thank you, sir.” They yawned, exhaustion filling their muscles now that the adrenaline from their arousal has subsided. Heisenberg let out a small chuckle, moving his hand down y/n’s back.

“I told you,” He started, his voice low. “Use my name.” Suddenly, y/n was wide awake. They lifted themselves off of Heisenberg’s chest to look right at him. They were wide eyed, furrowing their brow at his comment. “What’s that fuckin look for, y/n?”

“Sir, I-“ Y/n stammered. Heisenberg just hushed them, pulling them back to his chest.

“Shhhh,” He hummed. “Just relax.” The two of them were silent for a good bit after this. It wasn’t tense, however. Simply reveling in each other’s presence. But this time felt different. Their relationship had shifted. Whether it was a good thing or not, only time would tell. Y/n felt the full extent of the exhaustion that had been piling on them, their eyelids growing too heavy to keep open. Another yawn slipped out of them as they snuggled into Heisenberg. He placed another kiss to the top of y/n head and muttered something else they couldn’t quite catch before y/n drifted off.

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

And there ya have it!! Again, if you have any requests for future chapters, feel free to leave it in my inbox!! And if you wanna be tagged for future fics, just lemme know!!

@stararch4ngell4dy @fredyria @kuronekopirate @weathur @1800shootmeplease

#heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #professor au #Karl Heisenberg fanfiction

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years

Text

Whoo boy, been a little bit. I can’t really say much besides IRL sucks, so. Back to something that doesn’t suck, which is BNHA. This chapter is dedicated to the good bean Tenya, especially his little smile which forced me to change my pfp on discord because I just couldn’t.

I was kinda planning on doing arc summaries between sections, but honestly, the BNHA wiki already has those, so if you don’t want to go back and read through all the posts I’ve done for the pre-USJ chapters, just head over there and do a skim of the summaries there, I guess?

[No. 12 - Yeah, Just Do Your Best, Iida!]

I just love how his hand gestures are actual effective tools against enemies, I cannot even. Also, a good and friendly reminder that carbonated drinks stall his engines! I have never seen that used in fanfic, whether for crack or whump purposes… a shame.

We head right into the next morning from that battle training, with the kids being held up by the media as they ask about All Might. Izuku is a bundle of nerves as he awkwardly excuses himself to the nurse’s office, Ochako is a darling who describes All Might as super muscly, and Tenya goes into a whole ass speech with a lot of fancy language to explain the honor of being at UA and learning under All Might.

(Honestly, I find it hard to determine whether this is genuinely earnest or if he’s picked up media warding skills from his parents and older brother. It’s probably genuine, but I just love the idea behind low-key troll master Tenya who learned from the best, aka his older brother.)

Katsuki, unfortunately, is still known as ‘the kid from the sludge incident’, which I mean. I am so fucking baffled at how long the media in this have held onto that 'sludge incident' thing, like, you'd think they'd have moved on to other things by now and don't really think about it much.

It’s the same with the general public (as seen in chapter 3), like, yes, I too would have a fucking complex and anger issues if all anyone thought about in relation to me wasn't my high grades or my skill in combat or anything, but that one time a year ago where I was almost suffocated to death while the people who were supposed to save my life did fucking nothing. I mean, Katsuki has always had a complex, but This Didn't Help.

Moving on, we see the media wondering who the fuck this messy looking dude waving them off is, while Aizawa just. Fucking shoos them like they’re dogs or kids or something. His words seem like a vague attempt at being polite about shooing them, but with the hand gesture, well. Basically comes off more as a chastisement.

...honestly, this feels so weird that no one knew about it even though the kids who got in got a message from All Might saying he’d be teaching there. The only thing I and the others can assume is that there was an NDA on him teaching until it was announced to the newspapers on the first day of classes. Which would explain why it didn’t hit the news until said day…

Whatever, it’s weird, let’s just move on.

One of the reporters steps forward, asking/demanding a chance to speak to All Might about his sudden shift to teaching, only for the guy behind her to try and call out a warning - just a touch too late, as the sensors over the gate react, causing the daunting hunk of metal serving as a gate to slam closed right in front of her. Gonna guess she’s new to the reporting scene. The guy explains that the UA barrier locks down if someone without a school ID approaches the gate, and that supposedly there are more sensors throughout the campus.

The panel gives us a diagram of the three ‘levels’ of sensors - the gate/wall around the school, the walkway to the school, and the school itself. Which I think correlates to the security levels that come up later, since it’s a ‘level three’ breach, which means the school was broken into. Was it… always that fucking simple and I just totally glossed over that detail until now? orz

While the newsfolk complain about not getting comments from UA, we get to see the back of a ~mysterious figure~ who definitely isn’t the primary antagonist of the entire series. God, you can see his individual neck vertebrae.

Horrifying.

We transition to 1a’s homeroom, with Aizawa going over the battle training as well as their grades / evaluations. Aizawa calls out Katsuki and tells him to grow up and stop wasting his talent, which Katsuki grudgingly accepts. Izuku jolts at being called out next over his broken arm, and accepts the chastisement of learning to control his quirk, because trying isn’t going to cut it. Aizawa does soften the blow, however, by repeating that Izuku has potential, assuming he overcomes that issue.

With that done, Aizawa ‘Plus Extra™’ Shouta gets the whole class tense by drawing out the next class announcement. While I think it’s a translation error, the whole class sweating as they wonder whether it’s another brutal pop quiz is hella funny. (I’m guessing it was meant to be ‘test’ which would reference to the quirk assessment as well as the battle training, but ah well.) The whole class sighs in relief as one as Aizawa finally reveals that their task for the morning is to choose a class president - a normal, school-like thing in comparison to the past two days.

Pretty much the entire class has their hands raised to volunteer for the position, with Katsuki being particularly aggressive about it (as per the norm). Even Izuku has his hand shyly lifted up from the desk, while his narration notes that the position in normal schools entails mundane tasks, but in UA’s hero course means leading the group - a position suited for a top hero in the making.

Tenya calls for them all to quiet down, drawing attention as he goes on to explain how leading people is a task of heavy responsibility, but that ambition is not equal to ability. He is so intense it’s hilarious as he explains how the office demands the trust of its constituents, and that if it’s to be a democracy, then he puts forward the motion that they choose their leader through election.

Seriously this is just so fucking hilarious, I love this boy so much. And I love whoever it is that calls out that this is a classroom, not congress.

Tsuyu points out that the class hasn’t known each other long enough to build trust, and Kirishima notes that everyone will vote for themselves. Tenya points out that that is precisely the reason that anyone who gets multiple votes will be the best suited for the job. He then checks with Aizawa if this is allowable, which the teacher agrees to so long as it’s quick. And a quick transition, we reveal the winners-

Izuku with three votes, and Momo with two.

Everyone else, it seems, still has one vote, which was their own (as predicted). Izuku is shook. Katsuki is shaking in anger as he demands to know who the hell voted for Deku. Ochako is whistling and looking away, thinking that she’d better not let Katsuki find out.

(Also of note is that Sero is already approaching Katsuki and making a joke here about it being obvious Katsuki wasn’t one of Izuku’s votes, and then seemingly laughing a bit when Katsuki’s temper turns on him?

Hard to say for sure, but it seems Sero is the first of Katsuki’s future friend group to approach him and get away with poking at his temper. Which I feel is something very much overlooked by the fandom in favor of Kirishima for fairly obvious reasons.)

Tenya, meanwhile, is in a funk as he notes he has no votes, and that that is the harsh reality of office. Momo is concerned as she notes that zero votes meant he voted fro someone else, while Sato points out that Tenya was the one to suggest the election, so what did he seriously want? Izuku and Momo go to the front of the class - Izuku a nervous wreck while Momo’s just exasperated with the situation. Aizawa confirms their positions as he gets out of his sleeping bag, and the class talk a bout about the suitability of the chosen pair while Tenya continues to sulk in his seat.

With that, the first half of the chapter is done, so I’ll call it here. I can certainly say I learned a thing or two today, and I hope y’all did as well!

#readthrough #chapter 12 #usj arc #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #Iida Tenya #aizawa shouta #good to be back #real life is a pain and a half #I would have worked on this yesterday #but the manga site broke #also more food for the sero baku friendship fans

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lackingspace · 4 years

Text

Tender Sugar (Bo Sinclair)

Rated: EXPLICIT

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Not reader, Name used, Suggestive language and themes, explicit dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, spanking, fingering, uhh kinda like pseudo-exhibition kink, squirting, hmm Im sure theres something else I forgot

Author Note: Ok, this is a super special piece for @yourlocalslasher. It was her B-day yesterday and well, she loves Bo just as much as me, so I HAD to write her something. So again, NOT A READER- used a name, but its not heavy-handed. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

You’d finished breakfast and went to Bo’s truck without a second thought. Hadn’t seemed like there was anything else to discuss after giving Vincent a reminder to bring some snacks with him to the basement, but the look on Bo’s face screamed that something must have happened after you'd left the room.

"Everything okay there?" He didn’t even grace you with a look before he said, "Right as rain, Sugar" his grip on the steering wheel said different- just little too tight, too much force when shifting gears, "Right as rain." He was such a liar.

But you let it go. Nothing good ever came from pushin Bo when Bo didn’t offer up an argument. Usually boded better if you let him come to whatever conclusion he wanted first and then wait for him to initiate. So you had no intention of straying away from your tried and true method. Just had to wait it out.

And it paid off. Fuck, had it paid off.

You’d decided to spend the day with Bo at the station on a whim, not like you had much else to do today- besides it’d been quiet for a while now. Bo’d made the offer to teach you about engines earlier that week. Learning was always good and it occupied your time, so why not? Can’t say you had a huge interest in mechanics, but maybe it’d come in handy one day, who knew. You’d always heard learning how to change a flat was important, but no one had ever offered, so you’d never learned. Maybe now you had that chance.

But you didn’t want to make the ask if your boyfriend’s mood was veiled in annoyance. You’d give him space to cool off, but you didn’t really need to worry. When he pulled up outside the station and got out you watched him move towards the back of the truck before turning to open your door. Having to fight with the latch for any small amount of give, after a minute you were finally free.

Once you had the door open and looked up Bo was standing there with a raised brow, “Havin some trouble there, Sugar?” You gave him a flat look, “I’m tellin you this side needs some WD-40, it sticks.” He leaned in and gripped your waist to lift you out of the truck while rolling his eyes, “Sticks my ass, opens just fine for me.”

You huffed as your feet hit the ground, “Yeah, says the man with muscles. I don’t have that advantage you brute.” He looked down at you with a smirk, “Well, it’s a good thing these muscles will be around a long while to help my little princess out.” The slight flush it caused was instantaneous and you felt it in your face and in your chest. He was definitely annoyed before, but now he was being sweet? Something was definitely up, so you ignored his comment in favor of turning around to head into the shop.

Before you could take more than a step away, his hand was snaking down an arm to grip around your wrist. Tugging you back only to spin you around before he boxed you in against the door, "Now, where do you think you’re scurrying off to so quick, sugar?" He gripped your chin surprisingly gently, something that was rare for him, and tilted it up so you locked eyes, “It ain’t right to ignore a man when he’s declaring his devotion. Mighty rude to just walk away don’t you think?" You would have answered, you had some words to say that a man shouldn’t tease so early this side of the sun, but the hand that had been resting on your hip had slithered around to fondle your backside.

Of course Bo would use this to get his hands on you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them on you, it was just that he’d done it so unexpected and you were still wary of the attitude change. It wasn’t that you were afraid, far from it- just had you on edge because it meant he had something planned and shocking you was a favorite past time of his. Hopefully this shock was a good one.

"That silence ain’t helpin any, Luce." His grip on your ass turned rougher which finally knocked you back to reality, "Bo! It’s barely 10 in the mornin and you’re already copin a feel?!" His hand only got more aggressive in his fondling, "You really complainin ‘bout that?” Ok, he had you there, unable to really deny it you flushed further and narrowed your eyes at him, “can’t help that this ass was made for the palm of my hand," he gave you a slight smack, nothing too hard, but had heat flash through you and settle between your legs, “Love the way it bounces when you take a spankin…or my cock” That had you groaning and looking away, couldn’t take the eye contact when he talked like that.

Only that provided him the opportunity he needed to lean down and nuzzle your throat. A few kisses were placed here and there which had your pulse pick up and the heat between your legs worsen. He nipped at your ear before whispering, "Besides, I reckon it deserves a good spanking today. Turn it a cute red to match that blushin face.” The thrill that shot down your spine had your senses buzzing. Your nipples starting to pebble between his words and his mouthing at your throat, "w-what?"

He was too busy making sure love bites would be visible on your throat for the next few days to answer. Groaning from the treatment you tried again, "Bo, what?" Again, silence as his mouth littered kisses and hickies along your pulse, "Why do you wanna give me spankings today, Daddy? What’d I do?" Now that got a response. Bo loved when you played the daddy card. You wanted something and he was being unresponsive? 9 times out of 10 if you dropped that name on him he’d hear you out- if nothing else it always sent his arousal from 0 to 100 and horny Bo was easier to get to talk than angry Bo. It was especially effective if you whined and begged for him.

He pulled back to answer your confusion, "See, sugar, learned something interesting from Vinny just before we left." His hands were back to kneading from your hips down to your ass, "Oh? What was that?" He tilted his head and you could see the mischievousness in his eyes- a certain twinkle, decidedly not angry, thank god for that, “Seems someone told my brother it was their birthday and never mentioned it to Daddy.” Oh fuck, you’d completely forgotten! You’d meant to tell him last week when you heard the date on the radio down in the basement with Vincent. You were helping him clean up down there while he was going about his business and the radio announcer had shouted the date, you’d perked up and told Vincent, but by supper time rolling around you’d completely forgotten. It wasn’t like you stared down the date here. Sometimes you actually forgot what month it was let alone the week or day.

Shit, maybe you wanted angry Bo because that look he’d given you spoke of edging and you weren’t sure if you could take it this early in the day. Panicked you tried to hastily explain, “Bo, I completely forgot! I meant to tell you last week, but it slipped my mind!” You were going to add more on, more explanation, more begging for him not to be too harsh on you, to not edge you within an inch of your life, but he was already tugging you along to the back of his truck while cutting you off, “You don’t gotta explain there, birthday girl. I get it you’re just more fond of my brother than your boyfriend. I see how it is.”

The tailgate was already down, when had he done that? Must have been when you were struggling with the damn door. You tried to respond as quick as you could, “Bo! That’s not true! You know you’re my number one. You’re the one I wanna curl up with at night.” He gave you a hum as if he was contemplating it while rubbing a hand soothingly down your arm, but what he said had your insides clenching and your nerves shoot up, “Take those pants off for me.”

Your throat went dry as you registered what he wanted- and your nipples were achingly hard scratching against your bra, “W-what?” He smacked your ass again, this time harder than before, “Did I stutter, Sugar? You heard me.” You had...But here? It was so open...what if Vincent or Lester were wondering around town...or worse if some tourists were lured in, “B-but Bo, its...we’re in public…” That earned you another swat, “I don’t rightly care, pants off now, Lucie. Before Daddy changes his mind and you won’t like it.”

You couldn’t lie, the demand and idea had you hot enough that you could feel how wet you were. Not drenched, but definitely on the way there, hopefully he’d take care of it soon and wouldn’t make you beg too much. Ever so slowly you reached down to unbutton your pants and drag them down your legs. As you were doing that he’d maneuvered to hop up on the tailgate and sit at the edge to watch you strip, “Panties too, Lucie.” A fresh wave of heat pulsed through you at the way he said your name and the fact you’d be in the middle of town with your wet pussy out on display.

You went to grab your shirt to lift because why wouldn’t he want that too? But he stopped you, “Nah, keep that on for me. Like the way your tits look in it.” With a red face, you put your hands behind your back waiting for what he wanted you to do next. After a few moments of him raking his eyes up and down- tilting his head when he looked to your wet center before he smirked and said, “Get your sweet little ass up here, Sugar. Lay across daddy’s lap.” With a gulp, you climbed up and settled over his lap. Thank god he’d had you keep your shirt on because your breast would have ached against the cold metal- your knees certainly were.

You felt him smooth a hand down your ass, gripping a cheek and then the other before sliding down to your dripping core, “Already so wet for me, Lucie, and I’ve barely done anything.” He speared a finger down through your wet folds, “So needy for Daddy even here out in public, where anyone could see.” You groaned into your arms and tried to squeeze your thighs together for friction, but he wasn’t having it. With a slap to one of your cheeks he said, “uh ah, Daddy didn’t give you permission for that.”

Eyes shutting at the delicious sting that slap had sent through you before you let out a deep breath as he soothed the area, “You’re such a little whore for me, Lucie. Look at you,” He gave another spank a little harder than before and soothed the area as you groaned, “Ass and pussy out, drippin down your thighs. Anyone could look out a window or walk by and you’d still push that ass up in the air for me, huh? Needy slut like you don’t care who sees, do ya?” Oh, he wanted to play up the public angle like there were really people in town watching. Fuck, that did something to your brain- sent tingles down your spine and a fire through your veins.

Pushing your ass back into his hand just like he’d said, you whined, “You’re right, always want you to play with me. Don’t matter where.” You felt his cock twitch against your stomach as he chuckled, “There’s my cute little cockslut...bein all nasty desperate for it when that good Christian lady could be lookin out her window across the street.” He tapped your cheek as he said, “Would give her a heart attack seen this tight little ass taking a good spanking before breakfast.” A finger trailed back between your pussy lips, “Might even let em watch how good this pussy can swallow up my cock too.” You groaned because god damn was this man lethal, but all these light touches and love taps were driving you insane.

You needed him making your ass red or fucking that hard-on you could feel deep into your wet cunt in the next five minutes or you might just spontaneously combust, “Bo...Daddy, please, please! I need something- Spank me, finger me, fuck me...Whichever I just need it! Please! I’m so achy and empty...” You heard his smug laugh, “Beggin already princess? But damn it sounds so pretty out those lips of yours.” You made another whine when all he did was roughly grip the flesh of your ass, but nothing else, “How old ya turning, Sugar?” So you mumbled out your age and he tapped your ass, “Think we’ll add on a few more after that for good luck. I won’t make ya count them, birthday girl privileges and all that. Just enjoy it, babe.”

And goddamn did you enjoy it. The sound of his palm meeting your flesh rang out in the area, Vinny or Lester would definitely hear if they were around town- no way they couldn’t hear. The sting of his slaps were delicious and he rained them down all over. Some a little higher, some lower, even on the backs of your thighs. You could feel how hot your flesh was from the treatment and all you could manage was to sob out in pleasure as you begged him for more. “That’s it, Lucie, takin it like a good little whore for me.”

Another rough smack low near your thighs had please rolling off your tongue, “Look at that fucking jiggle, all nice and red for me too. You gonna feel this for a good week.” with a few more quick and heavy-handed slaps he finally cooed at you while soothing the area, but all it did was make you needier with how sensitive you were, “Thinkin you deserve a little treat after takin it like such a good girl for me.” he cupped your sex as you cried and squirmed in his lap, “want my fingers or my cock in this drippin little hole?” you felt your clit pulse at his offer and before you could answer he was already shoving two fingers in, “I don’t even need to ask do I? You’re always thirsty for this cock.”

You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, that you definitely had drool down your chin, and you definitely didn’t care to try and deny what he was saying because he was right. You were always thirsty for it and good on him for realizing you were crazy for his bastard self. So you just made a half attempt of nodding while tucking your knees under you to raise up slightly for more leverage to push back against the hand that was fucking into you, “That’s it, baby. Fuck this little cunt on my fingers. So wet and desperate for it.”

His other hand reached under you to rub at your clit, “You’re gonna fuck yourself on my fingers until you cum and then I’m gonna make you squirt on my cock, right here out in the open. Got that, Sugar?” You whined but didn’t make any other acknowledgment. You felt a jerk in his fingers inside you curling at just the right area to hit against your G-spot, “I asked you a fuckin question, Lucie and I expect a damn answer. You got that?” your head shot up as he hammered against that magical spot, “Yes! Yes, Bo! Yes, daddy! I got it! Please just let me cum, please!”

Your hips were pushing back just as fast as he was hammering his finger into you and down on your clit had you cumming within the next few minutes with a scream of his name. “That’s right, baby girl tell ‘em all who just made your toes curl.” You didn’t even need to look to see the smirk that was on his face, it was plain in his voice. His hand in your pussy was still slowly moving, helping in your come down while his other hand moved to rub circles on your back. “You did so good, Lucie. But we ain’t done yet sugar.”

Your breath hitched, that’s right, he wants you to squirt on his cock outside in front of the station. That thought was already making your sensitive pussy tighten around his fingers still in you, “Oh, I felt that darlin, you need my cock that bad after cumming so soon?” at your nod he pulled his fingers out and gave your ass one last resounding spank, “Of course my nasty girl does, wouldn’t be a cockslut otherwise.”

At that he picked you up like it was nothing as he stood before turning and placing your back to the tailgate. Looking up at him he was giving you such a devious smirk that it automatically had your legs spreading and your knees pulling up to your chest. His smirk only deepened, “Look at that puffy swollen cunt all ready for a pounding. Hold yourself open for me, babe. Wanna see that hole ready for my cock.” you groaned out his name but did as he asked and looped your arms around your thighs to hold yourself open for him- had the added benefit of locking your knees to your chest too.

He didn’t even undress fully just unbuttoned his jumpsuit enough to take his cock out and slap it against the top of your pussy before sliding it down to your open hole, “You look so good like this, sugar. Gonna look even better stretched out around my cock.” As he said that he’d been tracing a hand between your folded legs up your stomach along the bottom of your shirt. In a tight grip, he ripped it up and pulled your bra down, “Wanna see these tits bounce while I fuck this pussy.” you answered with a, “Mmhmm, anything you want, just put it in, please!” his hand continued up to your throat while he slid into you.

His hand clearly felt the vibrations of the deep moan you let out when he finally hilted inside you. “Feel so snug in here. Your cunts always so tight for me. Let’s see if we can stretch it a little, sugar.” and he was rapidly moving within you. He didn’t pull any punches, no starting off slow and building up, no he went full force and stayed that way. You were constantly sobbing at the feel of him, your tits were bouncing just like he’d wanted, and the hand at your throat was putting just enough pressure to add to your pleasure, “Touch that clit for me. Hammer down on it hard and don’t stop. Said you were gonna squirt and I mean it.”

He adjusted his hips and finally found that magic spot that had you crying out, “Right there! Don’t stop, right there! Just like that, please, Bo!” He cooed at your begging and kept at that spot, “Look at this cunt swallow up my cock, looks like its more desperate than you are. Such a dirty fucking girl lettin me do this to ya out here.” You were so keyed up that his words were almost background noise, you could feel the pressure building and you wanted it, needed it, craved it.

So you listened to his advice and kept your harsh pace on your clit while he kept hammering into that spot. It only took a few more moments before you were crying out a mix of his name and please and then finally a half moan half scream as you came hard against him. He’d got what he wanted, you definitely squirted and your pussy had gotten so tight that it set his orgasm off too. He pulled out of your quickly to aim up at your chest and face- most landed on your breast, but some painted against your cheek.

You were like jelly, just floating and you had no intention of moving. Vaguely you felt a hand stroking your hair and that finally brought you back to your senses. With a full-body stretch you groaned, you were an utter mess, “Happy Birthday, Lucie.” And then he laid a kiss to your forehead and you absolutely didn’t care about the cum cooling on your chest.

#hope you liked it!#Idk how well I did #but hope it was decent!#Happy birthday!#ily!#bo sinclair #slasher smut #writing gift #house of wax #house of wax smut #slasher community #slasher writing #slashers #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #and if anyone is this deep in tags yes im still writing jelly danny he almost done

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tinycaprisun · 4 years

Text

a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

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worldwidemochiguy · 5 years

Text

preview of Onyx Tower (yandere mafia! Jungkook)

Paring: yandere! Jungkook x reader

Warnings: Yandere behaviour (obviously), car sex, fingering, oral (female giving, male receiving)

Summary: After begging Jeongguk for weeks to let you go back to school, he finally acquiesces. However, your excitement over this turns out to be short lived when Jeongguk takes it upon himself to pick you up and see what kind of ‘friends’ you have exactly.

Author’s Note: I know it says ‘School’ but reader is NOT underage, the reader is a senior (18 years old) and therefore of legal age, and Jeongguk is only 3 years older. The reader and Jeongguk’s respective ages are addressed in another scene in the fic but I didn’t include it in this because it is in a different part of the story so it would be kinda weird to read, so I just thought I'd put it here instead: THIS IS NOT AN UNDERAGE SMUT FIC! BOTH THE READER AND JEONGGUK ARE OVER THE AGE OF CONSENT!! ok carry on reading now :)

Masterlist :)

You were less than excited for the end of the day. You had been looking forward to going to school again and see all of your friends, whom you had sorely missed, and you knew that Jeongguk, despite begrudgingly allowing you to go, would not be pleased with you. And it seemed you were right to worry when you left class at the end of the day to see a massive tittering crowd in the car park. You and Usoh could hear snatches of conversation as you drew closer.

“Look at that car holy shi-”

“Who is he here for?”

“He’s so hot, even if he looks like he’s gonna murder someone.”

As soon as you heard the last comment, you knew who they were crowded around. You tried to get through the gaggle of people, but there were too many, all desperately vying for a better look. This only increased your frustration; Jeongguk was probably going to blame you for being late as well, even though he was the one who obviously made the choice to pick you up in person with an ostentatiously expensive car. You were close to screaming in exasperation when a deep voice cut through the crowd.

“I am here for Y/n.”

A ripple of surprise echoed through the sizeable crowd. “Where is she?”

Those surrounding you were quick to turn and stare, nudging the people in front of them, causing them to move to the side and create a veritable pathway which led you all the way to Jeongguk’s frowning face. You returned with a scowl of your own, striding through the clearing as quickly as possible, ignoring Usoh’s shocked gasps behind you. Everyone was staring. You began to hear questions, asking who the man was, how you knew him, and how he was so rich. Many of your classmates seemed to think he was some kind of celebrity.

As soon as you reached the car — a black Bugatti Veyron that had drawn several jealous and adoring looks from your male classmates — Jeongguk took you by the wrist to lead you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you and practically shoving you in. You heard your classmates coo at his display of ‘chivalry’. He crossed to the drivers side again and got in, barely sparing you a glance as he started up the engine, devoting all of his attention to glaring at your classmates. You guessed they did seem pathetic. Your classmates had their phones out, filming the car they would never earn enough to buy, gossiping as if it was the most interesting thing all week.

Once you were on the road, Jeongguk directed a look at you. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, just like you didn’t have to look at him to know what he meant. His face said This was what you were so desperate to get back to? Really? You fumed silently, and then shot back a look which you hoped conveyed your sentiment: Isn’t it telling that I’d still rather be with those people than with you?

“I can’t believe you picked me up yourself.” Is what you said instead. “And with a Bugatti.”

“Do you have anything personal against Bugattis? If so, I can always just bring the Lamborghini. Or the Aston Martin.” He smirked lazily and you were so tempted to bash his head against the steering wheel.

“It isn’t appropriate for school.” You reply primly, folding your hands in your lap.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” Jeongguk’s tone dripped with condescension, and poorly masked jealousy. “I didn’t realise you would have so many friends watching. Tell me, are all of the boys at that school obsessed with you? Or, is it only most of them?” He spat out the word ‘boys’ as if they were so far beneath him, when in reality he was only a few years older himself.

“No, I think it is all of them.” You snarked, exaggerating in order to annoy him. “Baekhyun was so concerned over my absence, Jinyoung made me promise to text him, oh, and Taemin-” You were interrupted by Jeongguk pulling over suddenly, and before you knew it he had reached over and yanked you out of your seat, unclipping your seatbelt and dragging you onto his lap in one smooth movement.

You sat there mute for a few seconds, purely out of shock. He noticed and laughed cruelly, ghosting a hand over your cheekbone while the other rested possessively on your lower back.

“Is this what I have to do to stop you speaking other mens’ names?” He snarled, the hand on your back pressing you further down his lap until your chests were flush. You remain silent.

The two of you pause there, breaths intermingling. Then Jeongguk growled, low and harsh.

“You’re mine.” This seemed to snap the last thread of his control and he buried his face in your neck, licking and bitting, determined to mark you so everyone knew who you belonged to. And you couldn’t do much but sit there and allow him to do as he wanted, gasping when he fisted his hand in your hair and yanked backwards so that you were forced to arch your neck, exposing more skin for him to bruise. You were lost in the sensation, pleasure and pain converging into one as you writhed on his lap.

He was hardening beneath you, and you could feel your panties starting to dampen as you grinned your hips against his dick, desperate for some form of friction. He pulled away from your neck slightly to release a hoarse chuckle.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you, Princess?” As he said this, his hand found its way under your skirt and his fingers brushed the edge of your panties. Your hips bucked involuntarily and he released another chuckle, but you were too far gone to care.

“Yes, Jeongguk, please, please-” You panted as he ran his fingertips along the top of your thigh, edging higher and higher but never where you wanted them.

“What do you need, baby? Use the words you learnt in that fucking school you were so desperate to go to.” His voice became even lower, poisoned with anger. “Fuck, you’re probably so wet already because you fucked some boy in a supplies closet. Is that it, huh, is that it?”

“No!” You almost sobbed, the teasing overwhelming you. “No, I didn’t let anyone touch me. Only you, Jeongguk, only you.” He smirked triumphantly, before repeating himself.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You, your fingers inside me, filling me up so I can never forget who I belong to, who owns me- Jeongguk please-” His hand finally plunged underneath the soft cotton material, one finger immediately pressed inside of you insistently while he rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves. You sobbed in relief, moving your hips as you started to bounce up and down on his hand.

His mouth returned to your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses and praises against it as he pressed another finger inside you, curling them expertly. You felt your climax approaching and you started whimpering, causing him to rear up and pepper your face with kisses. As your eyes rolled backwards in your head, you caught a glimpse of a handgun poking out the side of the car door compartment. The man who had almost definitely used that gun to riddle bodies with bullets, killing countless other people was, at that moment, whispering what a good little girl you were into your hairline, and telling you how precious you were to him. The contrast between his dangerous lifestyle and the amount of care he had for you only intensified the sensations he made you feel.

The air in the car was turning heady, permeated with the scent of sex and the noises of your pants and whines.

“J-Jeongguk,” you moaned, and he hummed in reply, adding a third finger and making it more difficult for you to think.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Can I- I mean, I want to- can I please-”

“Do you want to come, Princess?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, “please, Jeongguk.”

“Ok baby,” he whispered, lips brushing against yours, “Come for me.”

You finally let the wave surging inside you crash and you felt yourself drift away into nothingness for a while, your only anchor being his caress, his still-insistent fingers moving inside of you, carrying you through the orgasm. After a moment, you whined from over-sensitivity and he pulled them out slowly. You came to a rest on his lap, directly above his erection, which made both of you hiss.

“Princess, you know I love you on my lap, but you need to get off now.” You scrambled to obey his instructions, putting your skirt and panties back into place and sitting in the passenger seat again. Jeongguk started up the car and pulled off the hard shoulder that you were parked on, rejoining the road. You noticed his dick, still standing to attention, straining against his trousers and decided that, after he had taken care of you so well, you wanted to return the favour.

Without looking over, you reached to the side and unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers so familiar with the clasp by now that it was easy to open. After that your hand darted in to pull out his dick, pumping it a few times and smearing the beads of precome from the engorged head. Jeongguk swore colourfully, his breath catching as you twisted your wrist in the way that you knew he liked.

“Princess…”

“Yes Jeongguk?” You looked at him from beneath your lashes, catching your lip, that was still swollen and slick from kissing him, between your teeth slightly.

“I have to focus on the road…” You hummed in agreement, and then leaned down to swallow his dick.

“Shit!” Jeongguk yelled, his hips bucking up into the tight heat of your mouth. You had been expecting this, relaxing your throat to allow him to thrust into it. He seemed to realise this and he held your head down to his crotch, his hand pushing on the back of your neck, completely dominating you.

“Fuck, Princess,” Jeongguk sounded wrecked, and you moaned in satisfaction around him, causing him to give another shallow thrust into your throat, “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? Anyone driving by can see your mouth on my cock, but you’re so eager to please me that you don’t care.” He let off your neck to allow you to take a breath. You pulled off his cock for a second, panting with your body slumped and your face pressed against his thigh, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. After a moment, you began nuzzling his ballsack with your nose, before running your tongue lightly up his dick and swallowing him down again.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Princess.” Jeongguk was fully fucking into your mouth now, quick, shallow thrusts that made you wonder how he was still steadily driving the car. You could tell he was about to come, and you wanted to swallow it all but he pulled you off by your hair. Understanding what he wanted, you closed your eyes and opened your mouth, jerking him off until he came on your face with a low groan of your name on his lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess.” He muttered in reverence, looking at your come-stained face and you distantly registered the fact that the car had stopped; you were home. “You’re mine, mine only. No one else will ever own you like I do.”

“No one else, Jeongguk.” You licked your lips, trying to taste the essence of him. “I’m yours only, and forever.”

“Perfect.” He punctuated your statement with a kiss, before turning to get out of the car. You stopped him with a glare.

“What?”

“Where are you going?” He paused and looked at you like you had just said the most ridiculous thing in existence.

“I’m going to open your door for you so you can get out.” He explained slowly, and you chortled.

“No you’re not. I’m not walking out like this.” Your seemingly adamant statement made Jeongguk chuckle, a smug glint coming into his eyes.

“I thought you were mine only and forever?”

“Well, actually-”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” He stopped you, waggling a disapproving finger in your face, “I remember what you said, Princess.”

“Jeon Jeongguk, if you think I am getting out of this car with your dried come on my face you have got another think coming.”

“Oh, you don’t want to get out of the car?” He questioned with faux innocence, “That’s alright, I guess we could just stay in here and go for another round.”

“Jeongguk!”

#bts #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut

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notfeelingthyaster · 4 years

Text

Imagine (Son of Hades! Percy; Godswapped! Big Three's kids) (7/8) or (12/13)

Blood of Olympus pt. 1 - The Aftermath

Hello! So there I go dividing more stuff - oh well, what did you expect? Before reading, make sure to check the masterpost - there's a lot before this.

Before anything, I want to apologize. A reader brought to my attention that I had not put on trigger warnings - a mistake that I corrected as soon as I could. I apologize if I accidentally triggered anyone. I'm sorry, I won't do that again. Check the masterpost for the warnings before proceeding and tell me if I forgot any. So, anyway. Good reading, enjoy!! :))

They're traveling to Athens. It's slower because the winds don't cooperate - but they have some time. They have to be there by August 30th, so ten days.

It's good, Annabeth thinks. It gives her time. Time to plan, to strategize. To hope a part of her best friend, the only remnant of her teenage years that is not dead or off serving the gods, is not still in the Pit.

She keeps herself occupied - between maps, research, and daily messages from Reyna and Malcolm, Annabeth has not a lot of time to ponder.

But when she does - and she does anyway, because Annabeth is a solver. Is what she does, she solves problems - but she has no idea how to fix her best friend.

Percy - Perseus, really, because this is him in full combat mode - has been awake for exactly a day and a half. Literally.

He doesn't sleep - mostly, he just patrols. It doesn't seem to affect him much. At least he is eating. Oh yes, the eating - he eats like the food is going to be taken from him at any second, and as much as he can.

She can't help but be scared - he has the same scar, at the same place. If Annabeth is a little affected by it, how is he dealing with the remainder of the son of Hermes?

Annabeth knows rationally that she can't blame him for not talking to anyone, for acting differently. But it hurts, that he won't confide in any of them, in her - not about what happened down there.

It's been a day and a half. He was in the Pit for more or less twenty days - and time in the Underworld is different. What if he was stuck there for years in his perspective? What did he see there?

These are questions that, unfortunately, only Perseus could answer. And he is deflecting. Well, at least he looks closer to crashing when they trade places at patrol - Annabeth will wait until he is ready, but she really hopes is soon.

Sometimes, when she is alone, she wishes none of this ever happened. If they were in power, maybe this wouldn't happen - it's not hubris, right? To see that they would be better than the gods?

The daughter of Athena is not alone in worrying. Most of the crew share different levels of concern - mostly prominent in Will, who saw all of Percy's scars and is torn between wanting to know how he got them, and never asking for fear of the answer.

Leo is surprised to notice that he is also very worried about the health aspect. He is not a person that generally focuses on humans - but this is different. He saw prosthetics before - Hephaestus cabin does a lot of them - and this kind of amputation? Very traumatic. People took a lot of time to adapt - Jake amputated his foot eight months ago and he is still having phantom limb pain and disassociating from it.

Okay that Perseus' new leg is a marvel of engineering that Leo's hands are itching to dismantle to see how it works - alas, Daedalus never left the blueprints of his fake body in Annabeth's laptop, he asked - but how did he deal with it in the middle of a wasteland?

Everything came full circle when the boy in question finally crashes - Nico is the first one to wake up with the screams. They aren't shrieks, nor words, just sheer screams of pure horror.

When he is out of his door, sword at hand, all the other cabins are opening too - Jason is the last to come down, being in the deck in patrol.

Perseus' door is cold. There's no other name for it - there's an aura of pure death around it, covering the entire hallway in a dreadful mood. It curls around Nico's spine - he can feel the shiver in his bones.

The one who opens it is Hazel, the one who seems least affected by the cold - it's so easy to forget that she was dead once. Perseus is immobile in the bed, his mouth open in the awful scream.

Before Will can stop him, Nico goes to wake Perseus up. He has no idea how to deal with the situation, but he cannot keep hearing this. Piper tries to hold his arm to stop him, but she is still sleep ridden.

The son of Zeus barely touches the other demigod - his fingers barely skimming Perseus' arm - and he is pinned to the wall, an ax he didn't even seem prepared to slash at him, with a tiger growling behind Perseus.

Nico suddenly feels like his true age. His whole body tires and sags, and he feels the drawn in his bones - it's only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. He wants to drop down - to rest and let his slumber carry his soul away.

He closes his eyes - expecting either the slash of the blade or the tiredness to take him away - but neither happens.

"STOP"

It's Piper. It works - more or less. Perseus doesn't immediately drop everything - the light just seems to return to his eyes. They are black still, but the vines of green are back, creeping towards his pupils.

"Oh. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Nico. I... I... I'm s-sorry... Oh gods I'm so, so, so s-sorry I-... I didn't... I didn't t-think... I-... this, this wasn't s-su-su... supposed to happen! This wasn't supposed t-to c-come with me!"

Perseus worked himself into a frenzy. He is in a corner of his room now, his ax left behind, but the tiger firmly in front of his master. None of the others have noticed Nico's strength leaving him. The son of Zeus half thinks he imagined it.

"No... no. No. No, no, no. No touching. No touching. No. No touching."

Perseus is almost trembling, but he is not crying. Nico realizes that he saw Perseus cry only once - when Luke was spread on the floor of the Olympus, Annabeth's dagger buried to the hilt in his tight. He wonders if the hero ever cried for himself.

The son of Zeus - and most of their friends that took a step forward - put their hands up, take a step back. Perseus seems calmer.

They don't talk about it. Nico suspects something happened - he felt so tired. He felt eighty - his body decaying around him. But nobody mentioned it - and when they left Percy alone, it was like it was just a nightmare.

PTSD, Will called it. Anxiety after days of being hunted through hell - the trauma still fixed on his mind, the idea of being in danger every second of every day. Depending on the outcome of this war, they might all have it by the end of it, if they don't already.

But Nico knows there's more to it. He would pass it up as a figment of his imagination if Perseus touched anyone. But he doesn't - he avoids even looking at people for too long.

He tries to bring up the topic with Annabeth - the gloves, the sweaters back. She thinks that it's comfort, something to tether him into reality.

Nico doesn't believe that - he doesn't think she does either. He had his own struggles with anxiety for years, but he has no time for pushing. After that night, Perseus doesn't scream again - one has to wonder if he is even sleeping at all.

Nico wants to help. For once, correct something that he knows it's his mistake no matter how many times they deny it. It's how he finds himself in the third night hovering in Perseus' door.

This is not really a smart idea - because the other demigod notices and opens it, so tired - there are bags under his eyes, but the ax is held precariously in his hand.

"What is it, Nico?"

The correct answer would be "Sorry, didn't mean to bother you." But Nico's dumbass teenager mind stutters.

"I... I wanted to check on you. Are you okay? I... I just noticed that you seem kinda weird."

Percy is not angry or resentful - he doesn't even slam the door in his face as Nico would probably do. He is just tired, and that's a thousand times worse.

"Why... why do you care?"

"We are friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, sure. Kind of." The "you never bothered before" goes unsaid.

It stings, but it's not a lie. Their past is turbulent - a lot of misunderstandings and mistakes on Nico's side, a lot of grudges and overreacting on Percy's. Still, they fought in a war together. They're still fighting.

"I care about you" He hopes Percy doesn't see the blatant subtext "Something happened - don't... d-don't shut me out. I did that when Bianca... died. Nothing good came out of that."

Perseus takes a deep breath - he looks exhausted to the bone. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mention Bianca. One of his hands tremble - Nico sees that no parts of his body touch the mechanical leg, ever.

"Something happened. I fell down into hell." He must see the flinch Nico gives, and breaths out "Sorry. That was harsh. It... it wasn't your fault. It's nobody's fault."

Something in his eyes tells Nico that he does blame someone - not him, but maybe Arachne. Or the gods. Or Annabeth. Or worse, himself.

Well, that couldn't stand.

"I know" He doesn't, but that's not the moment "But you need help. I can help."

Nico makes a move to touch Perseus' arm - it's a bad idea because his whole body flinches away.

"I don't. I don't want your help."

It's uncalled for, and it hurts on Nico's pride - of course, he wouldn't need Nico's help. What did Nico ever do to him? Was his touch so unwelcomed? Well, if he thinks he can do it alone, Nico should leave him to it.

"Sure, suit yourself. I won't bother again."

Perseus sighs again when the sixteen-year-old leaves. He doesn't want to hurt Nico - gods know that he should, dammit his weak spot for cute people that would drive a knife through his back - but they should leave him alone. He is fine. He'll be fine.

Hazel is also worried - mainly for the backlash of the coming back to the natural, living world. For her, it was weeks of adaptation - to air, breathing, the sun. And Perseus was in a worse place even.

Sometimes she wonders if the Tartarus shouldn't have been her weight to carry - if the Underworld shouldn't be her place. Hazel loves the surface - Nico, Leo, and Frank, and warmth - but there's a part of her that will forever be under a sad tree in the Fields of Asphodel.

Perseus is nothing but kind - he saved her. He saved all of them - not only from danger - but from themselves. And she is too chicken to help, after listening to her brother whine about his own experience.

Her only comfort comes when she is able to cuddle with Leo - Leo, her Leo, her soon-to-be Leo. While Frank is older and her crush for him never diminished, her own for Leo only grew.

That's why, when her patrol is ending on the fourth morning and Leo emerges from the belly of the ship, covered in grease and clutching an ash-covered wrench, talking under his breath about a thing or another, she goes khaki wacky and plants one on him.

Leo flays a little - Hazel is from the 40s. She thinks maybe this is being too forward - even if in Nova Roma, this isn't uncommon behavior. Girls are able to kiss boys - it's not being a sharecrop anymore.

The boy takes a deep breath - like he can't believe this small closed mouth smooch is happening and gives her a grin.

"Hi sugar, are you rationed?"

She laughs until her belly hurts, and they smooch again - no tongue, no open mouth. Leo blushes horribly - and it's easy to see under the grease.

When this war ends, it'll be she. And Leo. And Frank. Their lives are too short to spend pining and pondering - she sees her brother every day, and that's not what she wants.

After the war, there will be no wars. There will be no quests and no killing - just peace. Heroes get to have peace - like the original Jason. The gods are not ruining this for Hazel anymore. So she walks Leo to the front of the ship, so they can watch the sunrise together.

In the afternoon of their fourth day, they fight against a mixed group of monsters - and that's the day Piper actively begins to see the changes on Perseus.

She likes him a lot - he is an amazing friend - but he has no mercy. He annihilates two-thirds of the obstacle Gaea sent for them. It's a sight to see - because he is not close to the ground. There are no skeletons, no vines, no metal, no shadow under the sun of the middle of the day.

It's just him, his ax, and a skeleton tiger. Perseus doesn't even do it cleanly - there are blood, ichor, and dust smeared all across the floor and through his clothes. He twirls the blade around, and they don't even see him as he chops up monsters left and right.

Some try to flee - he doesn't let them. Something keeps them in the ship - and Piper would bet is Perseus, for he just keeps slaughtering them. She doesn't feel bad for them - this is war. They would kill the demigods, exactly like he is doing.

Piper is... curious. She wonders if he would rip the gods apart too - if they would bleed as much as some monsters, of if they would just turn into dust. If Perseus needs to cut them in pieces and scatter them on the Pit himself.

She isn't the only one - she sees the reluctant lust in Nico's and Jason's eyes, the sheer possibilities blooming in Annabeth's eyes. She sees fear mix with interest - Piper sees everything.

She doesn't think Perseus is well, or better. He isn't telling them shit for some reason after all. You don't go to hell and get on with life. Piper doesn't trust him to not turn on them - she knows him for about a month and a half now, a third of which he was in hell - but if he is going to destroy someone, is probably Gaea. Or the gods - she isn't bothered either way.

They are all dangerous. Reality-changing, world-ending dangerous. A skilled warrior? That doesn't scare Piper. Not anymore. Not in the middle of a war.

"Huh. Can you teach me?"

Perseus gives her a feral smile. Across his cheek, there's a streak of gold - for a second, Piper wonders if he is not a god himself.

Annabeth wonders if the gods will let them survive after the war. They got too powerful, too much. Sometimes, she looks at their eyes and sees they're more god then men. Their powers accumulate - evolve. Better.

Before, she was a sharp mind. Now Annabeth feels her godly blood spurning her further and further - no longer just mind, but the body. She sees attacks before they come - she is a goddess.

And she likes it. The power coursing through her veins - the ability to control. She then swears to herself they'll be that way - forever.

The following day, they stop by an island - Perseus feels a big gathering of ghosts. It's Odysseus' palace. They go in a group to investigate: Perseus himself, Hazel for her mist, Annabeth and Will. Nico would go - but he hasn't talked to Perseus for two days now, and is mostly sulking.

Annabeth - who is as cunning as Odysseus himself once was - asks Hazel to cloak her as a beggar. She asks around - but all suitors give vague answers. Even her wordplay cannot get a single phrase out of the ghosts.

Until Perseus puts her hands on a ghost - Eurymachus is his name - and the ghost is possessed - it tells them anything. Annabeth is clocking information from it - devouring with an avid look. Her grey eyes gleam in the blueish light of the spirits.

For Will, is almost otherworldly. It's Hades and Athena. It's more - it's Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase, controlling and pushing something they never did before.

They trade looks, and their glowing hands stay entwined long after the ghost tells them that Apollo no longer controls Delphi and that Nike is lost - running free.

Victory, Perseus thinks, Victory. A goddess so vain, that she thought the tides of war depend only on her - not on Tyche, or Bia, Enyo, and Ares. So many gods of war - so many superiors - and she thought herself capable of defying them - and the demigods. For a charioteer, Nike is quite a proud little goddess, isn't she?

So they have their next goal - finding the elusive arrogant dickhead - and following travel to Athens. With Victory on their side or not.

With the glowing phantom, their disguise is blown. Perseus himself was never proficient with ghosts - but he is very proficient with his Ax, and that cut spirits very well.

They fight - but Perseus is just so tired. He just wants them all to go away. With his powers fully restored, even if the earth doesn't obey him anymore, increasingly possessed by Gaea, the shadows should.

He is fond of his shadows - they are a comforting presence, so different from the corrupted ones of Tartarus. He revels in them - Perseus is their master. As he is master of the green ghostly fire, that seems to burn the spirits away.

He hopes sincerely that they don't even get the pleasure of the Fields of Punishment. He hopes they disappear forever in the void - Perseus has no time for petty enemies anymore in this long war which has absolutely nothing to do with them.

Will is hurt in the side - a gladius - but doesn't stay like that. As they climb back to the ship, his wound closes under the fiery light of the morning sun across his fingers - magic that was supposed to help only others, and never himself.

His father disappears, and Will is getting more power. He is not the only one - Perseus fear they'll become too much like their parents, that their powers will amplify their faults and take their humanity away - but is he even human anymore?

He looks at his "leg". It's not him - he is a cyborg. There's a dead piece of metal in him. Perseus could feel the vitality around him - their sheer youth, blazing like a light to burn all the empires. He could take it all for himself. He could kill them all, grind them to dust - they wouldn't even have time to fight him.

Perseus could take it all for himself - become immortal, a parasite latching unto others - how does that make him human? How is he any better than a flea?

They decide on a group to go to Olympia after lunch - Percy, Leo, Hazel, Nico. Four is a good number - a solid number, made of people who are non-competitive. The ones who loathe themselves - isn't this fun? Maybe they'll debate who is the worst.

They divide when they get to the island - Leo and Hazel go one way, the Nico and Percy go the other - Leo is the one to engineer it, but Percy wholeheartedly approves - it's tiring to coexist with a passive-aggressive Nico. He is done with this situation.

While the couple walks, Nico and Percy stand in awkward silence, side by side. Eventually, Percy sighs - he doesn't want to cave, but they have bigger problems to work on, and he kinda misses Nico's sarcasm.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being harsh with you."

"No, you aren't."

"I am!"

"Will you let me help you? Will you let anyone help you?"

"I don't need help. I'm better."

"Then let me touch your hand."

"Go on."

"With no gloves."

"What? Why? No!"

"See? You aren't better!"

"We're in the middle of a war. I was in Tartarus a week ago."

"Promise me then. Promise me that after the war, you'll get help."

"Nico..."

"Promise me Percy. And don't... don't break this one."

It's the lowest of low blows, but Percy's acquiesces. They start talking - stiltedly. Percy still doesn't touch him. Then Nico sprouts something he'll later regret (or maybe not): Calypso is again locked up.

Nico sees now - before, when Perseus was mad, the earth trembled. With no earth to answer to him, the shadows curled around his ankles and his covered fingertips - rounding behind his ear and on the curve of his smirk.

The son of Zeus is not a fearful person - but that doesn't make him afraid. It makes him remember why he is so infatuated with Perseus - he is not only a hero - he is more. He is a rebel and a challenge - Perseus only follows his own rules. It's a bravery Nico lacks, and one that attracts him like a moth to a fire.

Perseus just asks him to repeat, and then hums when he does, stuttering over his stupid blush. It's mercy that the demigod is not looking in his direction.

"Fret not, Nico. Let Calypso enjoy her vacation. The beaches are really pretty this time of the year."

It's scary - there's no one in Percy's voice. It's like the demigod is on the brick of a really bad meltdown - but they both know they don't have time for it now. So Perseus breathes in - once, twice.

Calypso will be free, and he is not even using his winning wish for it - he already used one once. She did nothing wrong, they are the oathbreakers. Perseus should know better than to trust any oath in a river that they never put a finger on.

So he lies back on the rock. If they survive - when, because he didn't go to hell to die because of Tartarus' less impressive sister - she'll be free. And well prized for this stunt.

Leo and Hazel get back accompanied by Tempest, who, again, appears always following some big revelation - maybe the venti also serves Hazel's new mistress.

The group heads towards the ruins which are roughly twenty kilometers wide. They decide to walk through them, looking for something to pop up - the earth doesn't answer to Perseus, but that doesn't mean that he can't feel the power on it. Eventually, they head toward the Temple of Zeus where an old Nike statue used to stand.

Leo provokes the goddess to come forth by hurling insults at the Nike brand - it's his specialty, sassing up gods. Perseus is more of a shade kind of guy if he can say so himself.

The goddess' Roman and Greek side, Nike and Victoria, are at war with each other trying to decide which side will be victorious. It's ridiculous.

The goddess challenges the four to a fight to the death, with the Romans and Greeks against each other. But there are no Romans and Greeks here. Nico and Perseus lived on both sides - and even if Hazel is Roman-inclined and Leo didn't have time to meet Nova Roma, it doesn't change anything. They wouldn't fight each other.

The time to fight is long gone - they should be rallying against Gaea. But Nike is too proud to admit to a tie - to both sides of herself to have peace.

She demands them to fight in an arena and gives them four minutes to be present. To make sure that they get there she sends four metal statues after them. But instead of fighting each other, they will fight the goddess.

Nike can try and influence their minds - but in the end, with her so weak, battling against herself, it's no match for four strong-willed demigods. Perseus is so tired of gods with petty struggles in the middle of something so much bigger.

The goddess-es fight for him and Nico - what side should they be. They trade verbal blows - Senatus, Praetor, Titan War are all used as arguments.

Funny isn't it? She wasn't on his side a month ago. Perseus fell - into the depths of the abysm - and while he won - again, and again, and again - it wasn't truly a divine victory.

It was not her victory. The merit is his, only his. She didn't sweep down in her great golden wings to save him, did her? Nor will she help with a war to save herself and her family. So why should she exist at all? Why should Perseus abstain from draining her and...

Perseus clenches his fists - he can't, he won't kill Victory. That's not him. He is not a murderer. That's just the remnants of the Pit in his good-for-nothing mind.

She is horrible - but if she dies, she'll end up in Tartarus. And not even her colossal hubris deserves that.

So, they subdue her - her powers aren't enough to stop the four of them, not when Percy alone and twelve defeated her superior - Ares himself. And, when defeated, Nike concedes her blessing for the upcoming war - they just won Victory.

It's a good omen - but she does advise them that one of them shall die - and that they would need the Physician's Cure.

When they go back to the board, Annabeth and Will start researching - both of them know the name, but can't link it to anything else. They find it in the Infirmary Archives - some that Will brought for light reading. It's not very hopeful, since none of them are brewers, but Hazel is a magic user and Will is a healer - they can do this.

Daedalus laptop holds the answers to the formula: Pylosian Mint, Makhai, and the Curse of Delos. They would also need Asclepius himself - but seeing that he was condemned to Tartarus and probably still there, it's more probable they'll do this themselves.

Frank, Jason, and Annabeth go to the port of Pylos looking for the poison - obvious options for the small mission nearby water.

They walk for a while. Annabeth notices a weird tension between Frank and Jason - Frank is giving Jason pointed looks, while Jason gives Frank worried ones - that has been that way for a few days now.

She couldn't possibly know that was about not only Jason's obvious crush on Perseus - which Frank is pushing the blonde to act on - but about Frank's own feelings.

Yesterday morning, while Frank was coming to take his shift on the patrol, he saw Hazel and Leo kissing. And the worst part is that he is not only sad but longing.

He is not jealous. He wants that - he wants all. Is too much and he doesn't deserve it - Frank feels so small, compared to the demigods he is traveling with. And with such... disgusting desires. The son of Mars only feels guilty - he has to erase this from his mind.

Eventually, Annabeth helps Frank to force an old soldier ghost to give them answers - she tells them they need to go to Nestor's Cave and gives them the directions.

Frank goes in and talks to a man who hands him a bottle. The son of Mars explains that his cousins, other descendants of Pluto, have been living there for generations.

They dinner together - Jason is not very welcomed. Most people there still remember the last war - and aren't all that fond of the progeny of Poseidon and Zeus - but as they are close to the sea, at least they're civil.

Some of them recount fondly about their own days at Nova Roma - they are all clear-sighted mortals, even if the godly blood is too diluted in their veins, but these are the ones that have it closer - great-grandkids of minor gods attracted to the old blood.

There's even a daughter of a minor river deity - and a pair of twins that are direct descendants of Juventa, in her travels to visit Hercules. It's an overall paradise, in the middle of a war.

Annabeth misses her dad. And Thalia. And Luke. She misses having a family - she wonders if this war will turn her unrecognizable - or else if it already did. If they are too godly for the mortal world - if they shouldn't take their rightful place.

As a parting gift, the cousins gave Frank the small vile of poison - it's the Pylosian Mint, the first piece to their puzzle. Before leaving, they tell the trio about a chained god, in Sparta.

They go back to the ship - in the mess hall, Frank muses that the chained god might be Ares because the Spartans believed that if they chained him up the spirit of war would never leave them.

Hazel disagrees - she thinks it might be Aphrodite Areia - Sparta was the first place where the goddess was worshiped, and if the Romans have aspects, wouldn't the greeks too? It's quickly shot down - Dyonisus said they were reborn - their aspects changing with their cult, if they weren't worshipped at the same time.

Perseus thinks he heard once that Aphrodite Ourania, Aphrodite Areia, and Aphrodite Pandemos were worshipped at the same time - but doesn't mention it. It doesn't seem important - he might be wrong.

Piper herself argues that it might be one of their sons - Anteros, Himeros, Phobos, Deimos, Harmonia, Pothos, or Eros - for which Jason, Nico, and Frank flinch - they wouldn't want to meet the divine couple's offspring again.

Other possibilities are the Erotes - which seems to make Piper happy, for one of them is Hermaphroditus theyself - or one of Ares or Aphrodite other children - too many to list here.

Anyway, they set course to Sparta - for the happiness of Annabeth and the general tiredness of the group. It is like an RPG play - Nico muses - they have a ton of mini-quests. It's tiring, and it's boring - flicking like bees after something or other for a bigger purpose that never seems to come.

They go to sleep, and Piper has a vision: it's her, Annabeth, and Hazel, running through the ruins of a temple - the temple of Phobos, her half brother. There's blood on the blonde's forehead - and Piper looks like she did before.

She doesn't want to go there. It's fear - she understands it - but that's one fear she is not keen on facing. Her old short hair, the boy clothes, the adam's apple, the stubble.

But they need this - someone might die. Someone will need this. So damn her half-brother. Her mother promised her, that when this ends she'll be herself like she always wanted.

So she goes and tells the group - no one is really happy to send them to somewhere they might get hurt - especially because the last time Annabeth went on a mission on the Underground, shit happened - but the daughter of Athena starts to list all of their mistakes and they have no real say in what the girls do, so off they go, into Sparta.

The six boys stay behind - but no one is slacking. Will ropes Frank into helping to research for anything they might have on the Physician's Cure; Leo finally convinces Perseus to have a look at his leg - even if just to see how much time before Perseus has to go to the Phlegethon to get more fuel; and Nico and Jason are stuck in patrol together.

Which is no good - they haven't really talked since the Cupid episode, and the last few days, the worry about Perseus and the small missions clouded everyone's personal turmoils. But now that the son of Hades is somehow adapting, they have time.

And time is a dangerous thing. Before the two weren't alone in the ship - there was always one on the mission, one otherwise occupied. Leo - and probably Frank and Piper - have been running interference.

Jason had no courage to approach Perseus, as Nico did. Nico knows that - it's in the way that Perseus treats Jason, just like he does Frank - pretending that the Pit never happened.

It's impossible to do this with Leo, who looks at his leg and his medical history and see far more than the others. Or Annabeth, Will, and Hazel, who he is closer to. Or Piper, who just seems to know everything. And Nico, who confronted him face to face.

Jason, however, only knows him one-sided - Perseus doesn't know him. They are friends, and before all this happened, they seemed to spend more and more time together. But they aren't close - the camaraderie didn't have enough time to develop into the trust.

That's why is so weird - he knows what the blonde is going through - the wish to be closer, to be able to at least help in any indirect way, but unable to gleam more about the situation. The information didn't come so easy in real life as it does in dreams.

They don't talk anymore, him and Jason. They just sit in silence or walk around their rounds in opposite directions. Eventually, the son of the sea god can't help it.

"How is he?"

Nico has the urge to answer "Wouldn't you like to know?", but that's petty and unnecessary. Jason isn't a bad person. It's just too easy to love Perseus sometimes.

"Better, I think. After the war, he'll be."

It's more for their sake than the truth. They try to talk again, stilted and trivial. Nico feels awkward - he misses their natural friendship. It won't stop because of a mutual crush - but they need to work for it.

So he settles for this trying. It's bad, and it's mostly both of them skirting around topics, their upbringings making it difficult - both have the emotional development of teaspoons. But they're trying, and it's okay.

Meanwhile, the girls are descending the Temple of Phobos, which is under a blazing hill. Hazel goes in front - manipulating the mist to stop the fire and looking for traps - and Piper and Annabeth follow the hike, talking quietly to fulfill the silence.

"What are you hoping to do, after this?"

"I don't know. Spend time with my dad. Fight for trans rights. Learn how to use more weapons. You?"

"I want to reshape the world - to build something. Maybe a city for the greeks. Maybe go into politics - Nova Roma looked directly out of my dreams."

"I do like politics - I'm more on the activist side, though."

"I was all for the Nobel Woman Initiative last year - there were two of my half-sisters there. You know, I did think it would be cool for schools to take this more seriously - I did my freshman year the same school as Percy, and like, barely any girls at the honor roll - even though most PA classes were brimming with them."

"I'm guessing traditional boarding school - I went to a lot of those, y'know. I was finishing my sophomore year before this mess, taking three AP classes. Stretched out like hell."

"I was taking five - because crazy over-achievers Perseus and Rachel took four, and I couldn't decide on the options. I was overworking for a while, but I did manage better than them - I think Rachel was high every time we visited her on the St. Claire's Academy, but maybe it was just the sheer amount of coffee and Redbull."

They keep on talking. It's the first time Annabeth talks to the daughter of Aphrodite and doesn't think she is an airhead. Piper is a conversationalist - exactly the type of friend she lacks, someone that can keep up with her streams of random thoughts.

Maybe they could have a girl's night with Rachel when they go back to camp. Maybe invite Hazel, and even Reyna too - Annabeth has never had one of those, stereotypical girly things. But maybe it could be cool.

It serves as a good distraction - the longer they stay on the temple, the worse it gets. Annabeth feels crawling in her skin and a sucking - a sucking that she remembers coming from the Pit, taking her in like if she was trash.

Hazel feels cold - her skin flickers. Some moments, she can't touch anymore. It's like being dead again - the rustle of the leaves in the trees of the Asphodel Fields ring in her ears as she walks through the marble halls.

For Piper, it's her nightmare vision all over again. It's like she never came out, never took the estrogen. There are mirrors everywhere she looks - there's no escaping the image that she hates the most - Piper, the boy.

It's not that "Piper, the boy" is ugly. He is just not her - that's not her body, that's not her face, that's not her. Her gender dysphoria is rising high in the back of her mind.

They keep going into the temple anyway - it's not easy to find the "chained god". They find instead Mimas - the giant supposed to kill Hephaestus, and, apparently, Ares - now that his stupid brother Damasen is dead.

Annabeth can't connect the dots yet, but the way the giant talks about Damasen helping an enemy - in the end, it all ties up to Perseus. What doesn't, these days? She is just so frustrated about the lack of information - and her new powers of extracting stuff won't work on a giant, she's pretty sure.

The titan is the opposite of Hephaestus - where the man is silent and intelligent, he is brute force and loud voices. He remembers them of Ares - Hazel even notices that he shares features with Mars Ultor.

To fight a god meant to fight intelligence, they must be emotional - Aphrodite would be excellent for this quest. But Hazel herself takes the lead - her magic is not mind-based - while Piper follows her routine of never being where is expected of her.

But none of the three are in their best shape - fear, the mental manipulation, drains more of them than the actual physical effort. Hazel is able to drive her broadsword across the god's shoulder - but the backlash of him shaking her off throws her towards the wall.

Annabeth - the strongest of the two remainings, physically at least - hoist the younger girl over her shoulders and starts to run. Around here, there's a faint grey-ish light - her mother's blessing shining through her skin.

He nearly strikes the vulnerable Annabeth with her extra weight, managing to hit her in the thigh. Piper, however, is quicker - love always is - and stabs him in the calf.

"You think that would hurt me? Silly little thing, just like your mother - I fought against two gods in the last war - you are nothing, little gallus puella!"

Piper doesn't get Latin, but she knows enough to think that's a trans-related insult. This is not her first rodeo - not even in her old boy's body - but it stills fill her with rage she cannot name.

"You should be more worried about how the makhai will castrate you, instead of caring about what's inside my shorts!"

The giant laughs - but there are doubts in his voice. The makhai hasn't been seen in centuries - but it all connects. It's not Ares or his children - it's the spirits of war that the Spartans thought to be pieces of Ares himself.

Piper takes advantage of his distraction and charges at him with her blade, causing the giant to stumble backward into a wall and destabilize the temple.

"You're worst than that godling that was manipulating my weak, useless brothers - that one lost a leg. I wonder how many limbs I can chop off you before offering you to Mother Gaea."

That is enough to incite Annabeth's rage. She puts Hazel carefully on the floor and attacks He barely managed to deflect her attack, and as he reaches out to grab the prone girl in the ground, Piper slices off Mimas' arm and hair off.

While Piper is keeping Mimas occupied, Annabeth released the makhai from the statue of Ares. The makhai follow the girls - they couldn't forget the smell of Aphrodite Areia and Pallas Athena, not even in a thousand years. They swarm Mimas, and as he staggers off-balance, both of them deliver the final blow by stabbing the giant in his gut.

Mimas topples face-first into the nearest doorway and disintegrated into ash when the stone face of Phobos falls onto him.

The god appears only to deliver the final blow, but doesn't help at all. He just laughs at their predicament and leaves them to find their way off this maze of terrors.

It trembles over them. Hazel is still unconscious - there's a trickle of blood running through the side of her face. Something is slowing down Annabeth - she shivers every time they take a step. So it comes to Piper to try and guide them through the falling building.

She is still a boy - and she hates it - but maybe it's just an illusion, and when they get out of here, she'll get her two-year estrogen body back.

Piper guides them out, with the makhai in tow. It doesn't feel like a victory - not when, even though she crossed the border of the hill, she keeps her boy's body.

Climbing back on the ship, she hides herself in her room. She - he, because that's a he body, and a he person, and she is not a he but when she looks in the mirror, he looks back.

Piper works herself into a panic attack alone in her room - and it's actually Annabeth that comes to check on her.

"Tell me five things you can see, Piper"

Annabeth's golden tresses. A blue sweater that is probably Percy's and got mixed in the laundry. One of Leo's screws that are everywhere he goes. A crown of flowers Katie Bell did for her. Malcolm's favorite book sitting at her nightstand.

"Good. Four things you can touch."

A calloused hand beneath hers. The soft jeans Annabeth is using. The cold hardwood floors. The wall against her back.

"You're doing amazing. Now three things you can hear."

The ship's engine rumbling beneath them. Annabeth's voice. Nico's brooding rock music coming from his room.

"Almost done. Two things you can smell."

Annabeth's lavender cologne mixed with the grime and sweat of their taxing day. The salty smell of the ocean.

"One thing you can taste."

Her mouth on Annabeth's. It's Piper who starts it - she is just so overwhelmed by Annabeth's everything, still worked up about the anxiety attack she just had, and they are so close.

The daughter of Athena is surprised and pushes back - she sits side by side with Piper, holding her wrist so she can't flee.

"Piper, I... I didn't mean to pass the... wrong... signs. I don't like girls. And boy body or not, you're still a girl."

It's the best and the worst let down of Piper's life. She nods - she is the daughter of Aphrodite. She should've known better. Annabeth is in love with Perseus - for years now.

"We can still be friends, right?"

Piper nods - Annabeth thinks it's ironic. It's the same interaction she had with Perseus - and she knows that, deep down, being friends is not enough, how much this rejection is just as bad as any other.

But she wants to keep Piper in her life. Is unfair - but there's something guiltily pleasurable about having someone that likes you, to know that you're not undesirable.

It's selfish, but Annabeth never claimed to be altruistic.

Up in the deck, Frank and Jason are receiving news of Reyna. She says she and Malcolm were attacked by Lycaon and his pack - and that Malcolm had a vision about Orion, the giant meant to oppose the twin gods, heading towards the Hunters and the Amazons.

With Apollo and Artemis missing, it comes to them to help. Jason thinks they could try and help if they cross paths, but that they should inform them by IM and go on their way - they have little time to dawdle, even if they're using Malcolm's mother transport company to carry the giant statue.

They are able to rest for the remainder of the day - it's more or less eighteen hours before Reyna sends the next message - they met the hunters and the Amazon in the Lisbon's Harbor and fought Orion, but no god came to give him the final blow.

So Reyna and Hylla had to run - the statue was already shipped off to America, and nymphs were helping them to get to the Long Island Bay within the next two days. Malcolm wasn't so lucky.

Orion smashed Malcolm against a boulder, breaking his arm and a leg. As they fled, Malcolm told them to leave him behind - he would stall the giant for a little while.

With most Amazons and Hunters out of commission or dead, they had no other choice. The last thing Reyna saw was Orion raising Malcolm above his head, and the sickening crunch of it breaking against the sea rocks.

Will is the one on patrol - and the one who has to relay the news to Annabeth. He doesn't want to wake her, but it's her right to know - so he goes and wakes Perseus too, to help deliver the blow.

"Annie, I... We... We have bad news."

Annabeth screams - that was her big brother, almost her father. He taught her how to hold a shield and how to swim - he was her only family left on Camp.

It's unfair. That shouldn't be his battles anymore - he is twenty! She screams and she throws a statue of her mother - and that damned coin - into the wall. Then Annabeth sobs on Perseus' shirt.

"It's her fault Percy, all her fault if she didn't send us in this goose chase if she didn't choose Malcolm..."

Will solves to tell the others in the morning - it's late, and most of them had little to no sleep. He goes back on deck, but there's a storm brewing in the ocean - and it's not a natural one. It's some kind of deity - and that's not a good moment.

He goes to Perseus - he is still awake, asleep Annabeth with tear tracks in her cheeks and scrapped knuckles in his arms, and tells him about the situation - Will is not that good of a fighter.

"I'll deal with it. Stay with her. I'll be back shortly."

Will should be alarmed - with Perseus more recent behavior, the way he always hated the gods' trivial troubles, should he really be sending him upstairs, with an ax, a tiger, and a mad expression into his eyes? Maybe not, but he won't stop it. The deity chooses their own fate - even Will is done with their willful moods, compromising a much more important journey in their own name.

Let whoever it is burn - The son of Apollo covers the sleeping girl's ears softly. She doesn't need this kind of stress now.

The storm stops, but the screams in the deck don't - they are like music to his ears.

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antagonistchan · 3 years

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so, some basics on my Magical Girl story

in addition to being a Magical Girl story, it’s also. kinda an Isekai. but a kinda weird Isekai (i mean, Isekais aren’t usually also Magical Girl stories).

basically: one day, the entire population of Earth is transported into another reality. this reality’s kinda a sci-fi/fantasy deal. and when i say “sci-fi/fantasy”, i don’t just mean “really soft sci-fi with a spiritual edge” like Star Wars, i mean straight up “there are Elves and Dwarves and Orks and magic but also it’s in space and there’s hyper-advanced technology”.

anyways, there are also dragons. or at least, there were dragons. the dragons went extinct a long time ago. but also, they were really weird dragons. as in, the dragons in this setting were basically elder gods, just in dragon form. yeah, they were giant winged reptiles... but they were also a much higher form of existence that could comprehend so many more dimensions of reality than we can and warped reality just by their mere presence. and see, while the dragons are extinct.... death doesn’t really mean much to something on that level of existence. they’re all still aware, and all still have some level of ability to affect their surroundings. but the vast majority are content to just lie in their graves and not bother with the rest of the world.

but some aren’t.

one of the really notable ones is known as Skull. Skull might be dead, but he wants to continue living his life. and even in life, Skull was one of the more noble dragons, one of the dragons most willing to defend the “lesser” races like humans and elves and orks.

Skull is... also one of the more macabre parts of this story. he’s not particularly dark, just macabre, but come on, he’s basically a zombie elder god. he’s macabre by default.

anyways, his body, even as just a skeleton, still has lots of power. so he used that power to construct a starship around it. this starship is still vaguely dragon-shaped, and he has full control over it, so it’s kinda like just being a robot dragon. except now he’s kinda frozen solid and people can go inside him (and he’s really big, it’s practically like a city in there). but that’s just most of his body. he did set aside a few of his bones for another purpose.

the Magical Girls. we’re finally getting to that part.

he split up those bones into a bunch of small (like, about the size of a marble) pieces, and then built devices around and powered by them called Magites.

the normal inhabitants of this reality couldn’t really use them, so initially, he made a group of six genetically engineered people specifically designed to use the Magites. and they were.... kinda a success. but not quite. but he was also aware of the existence of other realities, and realized that our reality was A: perfect for his plans, as most of us were compatible with the Magites, and B: on the brink of collapse anyways. so he rescued the entire population of Earth.

and then, whenever an Earthling proved worthy, they’d receive a Magite.

and Magites are just Magical Girl transformation devices. like Intelligent Devices from Nanoha, or Relics from Symphogear, or the Moon Pen or whatever it’s called from Sailor Moon. their purpose is to transform the user into a state where they can draw from Skull’s power. and this state happens to wear frilly dresses.

our main cast is a group of five girls (initially just three) who are particularly close to Skull. like, Skull kinda considers them his personal strike force. the initial three are:

Stella Greenfield, who came to Skull’s attention before even becoming a Magical Girl for her keen analytical mind and the rapid pace at which she learned about this reality’s robotics tech (like, she’d only been here for a month before she was able to program a fully conscious and emotional AI, Eve, who she considers her assistant and daughter). she’s actually the last of the five (not even of the three, of all five) to become a Magical Girl, supporting the team from the sidelines at first with her robots and tactical advice. when she does become a Magical Girl, she uses strong gauntlets to punch good and special gear that lets her deploy robots more easily.

Madison (no last name), who was actually one of those initial six lab-grown Magite users, also making her one of the few non-human Magical Girls (she’s an Elf instead). she was just kinda pushed onto the group, and was initially the only actual Magical Girl of them, so the group was initially just kinda “Madison and her handlers”. she’s timid and skittish, but in a pinch she’s fiercely protective of anyone she considers family or anyone she sees as weaker than her. in Magical Girl form, she uses guns (particularly a sniper rifle) and stealth (particularly the ability to turn straight-up invisible).

Kyouko Tenjou, who initially just kinda tagged along with Stella out of coincidence but then was the second one to become a Magical Girl. she’s harsh and abrasive, and ultimately has serious self-confidence issues stemming from her internalized transphobia (because she’s trans), but she has a heart of gold deep down and she generally tries to be a good role model for Madison in particular. she’s also Stella’s love interest. as a Magical Girl, she uses swords and psychic powers. stuff like telepathy, limited precognition, pyrokinesis...

and then after a few adventures of Stella supporting Madison and later Kyouko from the sidelines, she actually gets separated from them for a period of time, during which she meets the remaining two, who aren’t initially Magical Girls but do become them soon enough, and the three agree to stick together for the time while they try to get back to society. these two are:

Venus Bhatia, a violent and boisterous delinquent who’s ultimately actually second only to Madison in terms of friendliness. sure she’s violent, but if you haven’t offended her, she’ll be friendly (though her brand of friendliness is a bit intense to some people). she’s also a bit theatrical. when she transform, her whole vibe changes. her personality stays exactly the same, sure, but it fits both vibes, and her appearance changing is what brings about the change in vibes. in Magical Girl form, she comes off as more of a Female Prince-type like Kaoru Seta. also, she uses explosives. it’s very weird and specific compared to fists, swords, and guns, but it’s still got a practical offensive use. which is why it’s good that she was the first of the two to become a Magical Girl, because the second is...

Luna Flowers, a smug memelord and actual trained doctor who’s also got a slightly-hidden bitter and misanthropic side. and by slightly-hidden, i mean she tries to keep it under wraps and is generally just the smug memelord, but it really doesn’t take much poking to break down those walls and get her to express her true feelings. she’s also an amputee; as a kid, she got into a horrible car accident and her right arm had to be amputated at the shoulder. so, she has a robotic right arm. and as a trained doctor? it’s fitting that in Magical Girl form, she’s the team healer. in her Magical Girl form, the main event is her robot arm, which suddenly has a bunch of support tech built into it. healing rays, buffing rays, diagnostic equipment, and even a forcefield generator.

anyways, after palling around with Venus and Luna for a bit and the two of them become Magical Girls, Stella is reunited with Kyouko and Madison, and Venus and Luna decide to stick around. and after that, Stella finally becomes a Magical Girl herself.

#antagonist originals #oc posting

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calliecat93 · 3 years

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ST: The Next Generation Season 3 Watchthrough Episodes 4-6

Who Watches the Watchers: Picard is God now, or at least an alien species believes that he is. Whoops. While I disagree with the Prime Directive preventing the Federation from saving lives when there are no other options… yeah when this kind of things happens, I can understand why it’s a thing. So it was alright. I’m not a big fan of how ST sometimes protrays religion, but I also can’t sit here and pretend like there aren’t issues that do need to be addressed. In this case there’s the danger of introducing superstition to a non-superstitious race which quickly causes chaos. The way that Picard convinces the leader that he and the crew are mortal was depressing, but effective. The episode certainly raises plenty of philosophical questions, though again I’d like it if ST was a bit more nuanced about belief in religion or the supernatural (obviously it’s a sci-fi nto a fantasy but still) but it could have been worst. But the people are clearly not evil or insane and it certainly has a point about not enforcing beliefs of a false God or the dangers that com with it like… y’know, almost sacrificing Troi (loved her and Riker’s costumes BTW) for what was ultimately an accident/misunderstanding. Otherwise it’s an alright episode. 3/5.

The Bonding: The theme of the day is grief! We have a very rare occurrence here: an officer dying in the line of duty and leaving her child, whose father is also dead, behind. Since TOS didn’t have kids on the ship we couldn’t really do this plot, but TNG can. Actually makes me understand why Picard doesn’t like kids on the Enterprise and I have complained more than once on them letting Wesley, a kid, on active duty when untrained so I’m glad to see this kind of episode. I liked all the reactions and the concerns for Jeremy. Worf feeling guilty because he lead the mission as well as his parents being dead and wanting to help Jeremy as a result, Troi being understandably concerned that Jeremy isn’t grieving properly, Picard clearly hating this part of his job, and even Wesley talking about how it was when his dad died and how even though he’s gotten through the grief, it’s still difficult. I think it’s the first time he’s been able to express it in an episode, it’s the kind of thing his character needed. Jeremy’s response isn’t exactly abnormal, but it’s certainly not healthy to keep it suppressed and things only get more when his mother magically reappears alive, but it’s not at all as it seems. The choice between the harsh reality of grief, or living a lie but where the ones you love are alive and well. Which one would you choose to believe? I think this really helps show the more mature writing this season cause they handle the topic maturely and very thoughtfully with a ST twist to it. Like Data and Riker talking about how human nature causes us to feel pained when we lose one close to us like they did with Yar but one we don’t know as well or even a while group of those nameless to us doesn’t quite provoke the same response. Kinda like the confrontation Spock and McCoy had in The Immunity Syndrome, only far, FAR less heated. It’s not at all subtle with the message, but with this kind of topic especially with a kid character involved… maybe bluntness is the best way to go. I just wanted to give the poor kid a hug at the end, but I’m glad that he’ll be okay and now has a family in Worf. Also there was a kitty (not Data’s cat, that BETTER be coming soon though!), yay~! 4/5.

Booby Trap: Ah love, it can be so hard to find that special someone. IDK why Geordi’s having a hard time aside form maybe trying too hard cause he’s adorable, but hey I’ve so much as never even made romantic eye contact with someone in the 28 years I’ve been alive so who am I to judge? At least he can get a date. Anyways, after finding an ancient ship, the power starts being mysteriously drained which is bad. Turns out they’ve been caught in a trap, well no one can say that the title is misleading. Anyways, it’s okay. We have a crisis where Geordi going through the personal log of one of the Enterprise designers to find a potential fix… only to end up causing the computer to create a holographic version of the engineer, Leah. So we have Geordi trying to save them before they get blown up while falling in love with a hologram… welp. So did ST create the whole virtual lover trope? Or at least predict it? Welp. So… is he more or less flirting with the computer of the Enterprise? Or essetially the Enterprise itself? God I can see him and Scotty really getting along haha. But yeah I’m glad to have some Geordi focus… but IDK if the romantic part was necessarily needed, makes it feel more like a Season 2 episode. The next episode is another Geordi one that sounds very interesting so we’ll see if that’s a bit better. Otherwise, no real strong feelings for this one. Probably the weakest thus far but there are still 20 episodes to go and we’ve already had five quality episodes. Very least Levar as Geordi is a blessing XD 2.5/5.

#st watchthrough

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 4 years

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I Think It Might Be Time to Give Up on AHS

Quarantine can be a harsh and unpredictable mistress. One minute it’s stroking your nether-regions with promises of the chance to catch up on all those Netflx series you’ve been meaning to watch, the next it’s pissing in your face because you actually tried to watch them. Or, to put it in a less roundabout way, I recently watched AHS: Apocalypse on Netflix (because Lockdown) and it wasn’t very good. I’d go so far as to describe it as fucking woeful.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re not in the same territory as AHS: Cult which blundered through a lazy, message-mongering plot devoid of both likeable characters and much-needed supernatural elements. That was a torrent of acidic xenomorph urine to the face. In comparison, Apocalypse is an anaemic dripple of bunny piddle. It’s not so much a discordant offence against the eyes and ears as it is a continual, deflationary hum of disappointment.

Things start off very promisingly, with a bunch of middling-to-loathesome survivors of a nuclear war hunkered down in a bunker modelled on the Edwardian era under the aegis of a technophobic, prudish sociopath and a lassie who later turns out to be a literal fucking robot. Then The Man In Charge- a dude named Michael Langdon who’s possessed of otherworldly, nightmarish powers- shows up and starts a selection process by which some- but not all- the survivors will be chosen to go on surviving and ultimately build a new world. After three episodes of this tasty, high-camp nonsense, however, things grind to a screeching halt and we get a seven-epsiode-long prequel explaining how this situation came about and how the witches from Season Three have been planning to undo it all along. Hot tip writers: don’t offer me ‘AHS does Fallout’ only to withdraw at the last minute and blow your load on a rambling, incoherent race-against-time plot that belongs somewhere in the late ‘90s. If I wanted to watch people I barely care about stage a last ditch attempt to save the world from a stupidly implausible threat, I’d rewatch ‘Deep Impact’ or ‘The Core’. At least those had a fucking budget.

And yes, I did say ‘stupidly implausible’. I know what you’re thinking: the spectre of nuclear war is horrifyingly plausible. But AHS isn’t content with bombs dropped because humans are shit. Instead, it turns out Michael Langdon engineered the whole situation because (drum roll please), he’s the anti-christ. That’s right: this is one of those fictions that takes the deeply-held religious beliefs and fears of quite a lot of people and misappropriates them so that it can concoct an excuse for its antagonist poncing around with my haircut and powers that it’s too lazy to explain properly.

There’s a weird subplot about Michael being helped to power by warlocks because they’re discriminated against by witches and reckon he can net them the upper hand. AHS: Apocalypse doesn’t actually have the balls to commit to its own gender-inverted struggle-for-equality plotline though, so within a couple of episodes, the warlocks are reduced to caricatures of sexist, chauvinist ass-hats so that nobody has to question or feel bad about the witches’ own particular brand of bastardry. Now, all gender-flipping in fiction is stupid, so there’s an argument to be made that backing out of that plotline was emminently sensible. However, the reality is it shouldn’t have been raised in the first place, since it turns the END OF THE FUCKING WORLD into a tawdry, boring battle of the sexes. The seemingly all-encompassing stakes are reduced the squalid realm of half-baked, poorly-understood television gender politics and it becomes impossible to care what happens to anyone, even the witches.

Speaking of the witches... weren’t these characters nuanced, suprisingly likeable portraits of realistic people with hopes and dreams and faults and failings back in AHS: Coven? ‘Cause I seem to remember liking them in that, but this time round they’re flattened, poorly-scripted and kinda self-righteous.

Here’s a tip, writers: when you bad guy’s literally the anti-Christ, it’s important that your good guys don’t come off as even bigger tools. It’s jarring and weird to be watching a show about scrappy anti-heroes fighting the embodiment of evil and not care if they live or fucking die. The stakes alone should put one firmly on their side, because we all understand that The Fate Of The World trumps any personal dislikes or ambivalence. You have to be writing really fucking badly to make your audience actively not give a shit. And while we’re on the subject, Michael shouldn’t come off as cool-as-fuck half the time and lost-and-weepy-and-damaged (and therefore sympathetic) the rest of the time. If you’re going to say he’s the anti-Christ, make him as terrifying and unrelatable as that title implies. If you’re going to pilfer actual religious beliefs for your camp, silly horror TV series, at least commit to them. I know Good Omens got away with this shit, but the reason that Good Omens got away with this shit ws because a) it was substantially more lighthearted in tone and handled its material with an impish creative dexterity and b) was clearly offering a whimsical hypothetical deconstruction of theological ideas, not a grandiose staging of them in a fictional space. There’s a huge difference.

So that’s AHS: Apocalypse. Simultaneously anaemic and offensively dumb. I remember how AHS: Freak Show managed to make a sinister, narcisistic freakshow owner loveable, a murderous, deformed clown charming and a tantrumming rich kid genuinely menacing in service of its gloriously convoluted plot. Did the writers from back then just die in a freak orgy-related accident or something? ‘Cause if so, it’s definitely time to get off the bus that is AHS before it crashes into a pond.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #ahs: apocalypse #American Horror Story #American Horror Story Apocalypse

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flowerpowell · 5 years

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You Drive Me Crazy (Colt x MC)

PART SIX

A/N: Here’s part six, which also means the series is coming to an end! Thank you for your patience with waiting for this chapter, I hope you’ll all like it! As always I dont own the characters but I’d appreciate the feedback. And please note, this is an AU!

Rating: PG-16

Word Count: 1598

Tagging: @agent-bossypants @brightpinkpeppercorn @confessionsofabrokegirl @lovehugsandcandy @walkerduchess @choicesarehard @going-down-downtown @long-gone-girl @client-327 @desireepow30 @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @umiumichan @powdesiree0816 @claudevonstruke @akrenich ♥

“I love you, Ellie,” Colt repeated and within seconds Ellie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately as if they never argued, as if she remembered he was her first, as if it all made sense again.

Except that it wasn’t true. That was not the reality. The reality was harsh.

It was over.

Colt hid his face between his hands, sitting on his bed, his shirt wet from tears. His tears.

He sat there, trying to steady his breath and reminiscing about what happened only an hour ago.

“This is low, even for you!” she shouted at him from behind the closed car door.

“I just said I loved you, how is this low?!”

“Oh, please! You’ll do just everything to make me stop seeing Logan! I didn’t expect you’d actually start pretending you like me not but apparently I don’t even know you!”

I don’t even know you. Know you.

He didn’t know himself either at this point.

There was no Colt he used to know. No Colt who laughed at being too emotional. No Colt who didn’t care about what other thought about him. No Colt who never shed a tear.

That Colt was gone. Dead.

This Colt was helpless, in love and needed a hug. This Colt hated this new Colt.

“Stupid feelings!” he slammed his fist into the wooden bed frame breaking it.

He needed to leave. Go far away and never look back. Leave as soon as possible.

~~~~

“Young Kaneko! Hi, come in,” Ellie’s father opened the door and let Colt in. “My daughter is not here, I’m afraid. She’s constanstly out somewhere and I barely see her these days,” he sighed.

“I actually came to you. To say goodbye. I’m leaving the town and I figured I’d tell you,” Colt shrugged gently as he felt Ellie’s dad’s gaze on him.

“Why?”

“Oh you know, nothing is happening here, really. I want to know the world. Leave this shithole, start my life. Ellie’s going to college soon too so it’s not like I have much left here,” he said biting his lower lip. It wasn’t all true. He lost Ellie before she even went to college and ever since Logan appeared, he had nothing left.

“Ellie knows?”

“I’ll tell her. I couldn’t find her.”

“You sure you want to leave? You and Ellie seemed--”

“I’m sure. Won’t change my mind,” Colt cut him off. Ellie’s father nodded and went silent for a moment.

“She’ll miss you,” the old man finally spoke. Colt shook his head.

“I doubt it. She’s going to college soon, she has friends. She’ll be fine.”

“She’ll miss you,” he repeated, “and it’s not certain she’ll go to college this year.”

“What? Why?” Colt asked alarmed. Did something happen?

“I need to pay one last installment but my visit at the hospital cost a half of it. I’m not sure if I’ll manage the get the money before it’s due.” He explained and Colt started thinking. Did Ellie know? She wanted to go to college so bad... She’ll be devastated.

“Think positively,” Colt said, “maybe you’ll have the money. I gotta go now but please, take care of yourself, sir.”

“You too, Kaneko. You too.”

~~~~

His mind was racing.

He hadn’t done it in months but he needed the money. For Ellie. For her college. For her dreams. For her freedom. For her.

He knew it was stupid and Ellie would be mad if she found out he was doing it again. That was why he only told Mona about it. She was against it too but he didn’t care. This was the only way he could help Ellie before he would leave.

“Yo, Kaneko!” A man named Salazar walked up to him with a few of his buddies. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Racing again?”

“Yup,” Colt answered shortly. He hated the guy and he didn’t come here for a small talk. He came here to race and to win the money he needed. And then leave. For good.

“Think you can win? With me?” the man laughed and his friends followed.

What a bunch of morons.

“I always did.”

“Aren’t you afraid you precious litte friend’s father, who’s a cop, will find out you took part in illegal races again?”

“And who’s gonna tell him? You?” Colt laughed and Salazar narrowed his eyes.

“You’re going down,” he said before he left and Colt rolled his eyes. Whatever. I’m here just for the money.

He walked up to his motorcycle and studied it for a second. He wasn’t afraid of losing, he knew he was good and since Ellie was his motivation, he knew he could win this. He smiled at the thought of Ellie but his face fell remembering their last meeting. He was just about to warm up, his little silly routine before every race, when his phone rang.

Mona.

“I’m kinda busy right now, Mona.”

“Ellie was here. Asking about you.”

“What?” he froze. “What was she asking? Why...?”

‘I told her where you are. And what you’re about to do.”

“What?! Mona! How could you, I trusted you!” Colt yelled into the phone.

“She came here and told me her father told her you were leaving. She wanted to know why. I told her it was partly because of her. I might have told her some things from your perspective. She thought you were pretending when you said you loved her, now she knows it wasn’t a lie. I told her you don’t know how to deal with your emotions but you fell for her. She seemed to be shocked.”

“MONA!”

“Listen, Colt. I like you but you need help. She would never know if I hadn’t told her. I spared her the details but long story short, she knows you wanted to be more than friends with her and that’s why you acted like a total ass. And she’s headed there so you’d better win that race asap before she gets there.” Mona kept explaining but Colt stood still, not sure what to think. Ellie knew everything. Shit. He quickly hung up and hopped on his bike. The race was supposed to start soon and he hoped it’s end before Ellie arrived.

It felt almost nice to be back. The adrenaline, the exicitement, it all was back.

The race started and Colt easily managed to draw ahead. He saw Salazar in the corner of his eyes, he was determined to win this time but Colt maneuvered slightly and was first on the finish line. He smirked at the “losers” and went to claim his prize when he saw her.

Ellie was furious.

She noticed him and started yelling something, something he couldn’t understand because one of the motorcycles’ engine was still working. He turned to ask the owner to stop it but saw Salazer driving straight into him, clearly trying to hit him.

“WHAT THE HELL?” Colt yelled when he jumped back dodging the bike. Salazar looked back at him, not even bothering to stop the vehicle. Colt’s angry expression quickly turned into a pure horror on his face when he realized Salazar’s motorcycle was going right into...Ellie.

“Ellie!” he screamed but she was too shocked to move and Salazar seemed to have frozen as well.

“STOP IT!!” Colt yelled running after the bike, praying to somehow make it stop.

“ELLIE!” he cried out but it was too late. She was hit and thrown with a huge force, and landed on the street. Colt felt like he was going to either throw up or kill Salazar. Preferably both.

“Ellie!” he ran up to her and looked in horror at her face, the blood dripping from her head, forming a small puddle which was doubling before his very eyes.

“Ellie, please, stay with me,” he tried to stop the bleeding with his jacket, frantically looking for his phone. Salazar and the rest of the people stood still looking at both of them with their eyes wide opened.

“Can someone call the ambulace?!” Colt lost his patience and started yelling at the crowd. They all only shrugged.

“If we call 911 the police will come as well and we’ll be all arrested. It’s not worth it. It’s better to sacrifice her,” Salazar pointed to Ellie.

“SACRIFICE ELLIE?!” Colt stood up and started walking towards Salazar with hate in his eyes. “How about we sacrifice you and tell the police you wanted to kill her, huh?”

“Dude... not worth it. He’s right,” another man cut in. Colt glared at him and then looked around at the faces of everyone.

“You’re...You’re serious? You’ll let her die because you’re afraid you’d go to jail?” he asked hesitantly. They all nodded. Salazar put a hand on his shoulder but Colt shook it off. “Accidents happen. We’re leaving and so should you,” he said and they all started slowly dispersing.

Colt stood frozen at what he just witnessed. He looked at the men driving away and then at Ellie laying motionless on the road. Then again at the men and at Ellie. And again.

Sacrifice.

Ellie.

Sacrifice.

He closed his eyes and whispered into the night “I’m sorry.”

He looked at her again, as if remembering her features before he spoke again. “911? I’d like to report an accident.”

#ride or die: a bad boy romance #ride or die: bad boy romance #rod #choices #choices rod #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt kaneko x mc #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #tw: blood #i was writing it during my break #so it might be messy #and sad #but idk

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sickficgalore · 7 years

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Day 12 - Free day (Overwork/Lance)

my last fic for @vldwhumpmas2017 and since it’s free day, i decided to be creative with it and made it a college(kinda) K-pop dance cover club/team au!

the dance they were covering was Crazy Sexy Cool by Astro, and this is their official dance practice video for reference!

“Lance, why are you so slow at picking up the dance routine today? We’re filming the cover at the end of this week, we don’t really have much time.” Allura, the leader of their dance cover and the one who was teaching the dance, was now extremely frustrated. The team had to repeat the chorus countless times because Lance kept fumbling with his moves.

“I’m so sorry… I’m tired, and it’s finals week.” Lance sighed, the first to sit back down on the floor when Coran turned the music off.

“Well, then I’m sorry too, but our fans are waiting for the Christmas cover, which won’t happen if you don’t stop being lazy.” Allura said firmly, “Crazy Sexy Cool isn’t so difficult that you shouldn’t be able to handle it. Also, it’s finals week for everyone here, why are you the only one who’s complaining?” Allura continued, the mood in the dance studio now tense.

“Allura. I think it’s time we call it a day.” Shiro, the assistant leader for the cover, said in a low voice as he walked up to Allura and subtly pointed at the clock that was mounted on one of the walls of the studio. It was almost thirty minutes past eleven, their original practice ending time.

“Right. We’ll meet again tomorrow, same timing, and I do hope we can get past the chorus.” Allura announced, glaring at Lance intentionally before the team dispersed.

Lance pursed his lips, trying his very best not to break down from the stress he was feeling as he picked up his bag from the corner of the dance studio. He had so many tests to study for and so many assignments to complete this week, and he was starting to regret participating in this cover. He was sure other members of the club would have willingly taken his place.

When Lance arrived back at his apartment past midnight, he put his bag down hastily before leaving yet again to his nearby gym to practice. He went over the dance they had learnt earlier countless times until his moves were smooth and on-par with the rest of the team before learning the gist of the entire choreography, wanting to learn ahead of the team so as to not be a burden at practice. It was almost four in the morning when he returned home.

Allura was nothing but pleased at Lance’s fast improvement later that day at practice, and was glad that her words had spurred him to work harder, obviously unaware of the extent Lance was going.

Lance’s routine continued for the rest of the week. School in the day, dance practice with the team until close to midnight, then heading to the gym to practice even more and then returning home to catch up with revision and his incomplete assignments into the wee hours of the morning.

—

It was Sunday, filming day for the cover, and Lance woke up feeling the worst he had felt that week. He was aware of his body feeling progressively more sluggish as the days passed, but he gradually grew numb to that same tired feeling he felt everyday. This one was different. His entire apartment was spinning and his body felt like it was being weighed down by a big bag of bricks.

“Whatever,” he told himself, “just complete this dance cover, and you can come back and take a good nap for the rest of the day. This hell week is finally coming to an end.”

While making breakfast, he zoned out while pouring milk into his bowl of cereal that when he snapped back into reality, he found his bowl of milk overflowing. In the end, he barely ate half of it in fear that he would barf. Later, while driving to the filming location, he almost drove past a red light and into a tree. It was fair to say that he really needed sleep.

Lance was thankful that the filming location was at an empty rooftop carpark and he was able to park his car a few steps away from where the team was, because he didn’t think he could walk long distances with the way his head was spinning.

“Lance, your eyebags are seriously popping.” Keith teased, “talk about some authentic Gucci eyebags you have over there.”

“I want to die.” Lance groaned, sitting down on one of the parking blocks in the carpark that they were filming at.

“Are you alright?” Hunk asked, concern evident on his face.

“Nope. This week was hell.” Lance responded, burying his face in between his knees.

“ALRIGHT, TEAM. LET’S START FILMING!” Coran, who was their outfit coordinator and cameraman, announced, “also, here are your Christmas hats and reindeer headbands. Glad to see you all remembered to put on red outfits for today’s cover! Lance, nice Christmas-themed socks.” he said enthusiastically.

Lance looked down at his feet, only now realising that his left sock was red while his right sock was green, and was not intentional.

“Did you really come here in mismatched socks..” Pidge chuckled, standing in position next to Lance.

“Shut up.” Lance groaned.

The song started playing, and Lance’s body followed the music like how a puppet would. He felt like his limbs were just flailing about, but he could do nothing about it.

“LANCE! Your facial expressions are terrible, and your movements are on time but lack any energy! Let’s do this again.” Allura shouted after monitoring the footage, pressing the play button on the music player once again.

Allura was beyond angry when she monitored the second footage, where Lance was dancing visibly worse than before. His movements this time were not even in sync with the song or everyone else.

“Allura, before you say anything, I think Lance needs to sit down.” Keith eyed Lance uneasily. Lance was swaying on his feet, his eyes downcast and focusing on nothing in particular. Not to mention the way his face was as pale as a ghost and there was an unsettling sheen of sweat all over his face and down to his neck.

“Lance? Lance?” Shiro repeatedly called his name, and only after the fifth ‘Lance’ did he show any sort of response.

“Yes? Are we doing it again?” Lance asked, voice almost a whisper that only Shiro could hear, “please don’t make me do it again, I feel like i’m about to keel over..” Lance sounded like he was about to start sobbing.

“Lance, you should sit down.” Shiro said. Hunk was already ahead of him and brought a stool from god-knows-where to Lance’s side. Lance was so out of it that Shiro had to ease him into the chair.

“What’s wrong with him?” Pidge asked the question that everyone on the team was dying to know the answer to.

Shiro put a hand to Lance’s forehead and neck, before checking with his own, “His body temperature is normal.” Shiro furrowed his eyebrows, “Lance. Lance. Can you hear me?” He tried to grab Lance’s attention.

“W-what?” Lance responded a few seconds late, turning to Shiro.

“How are you feeling now? Describe it to me.” Shiro said.

“I’m…..so extremely dizzy. And I’ve never felt this..tired..all my life. I can’t focus on anything and..and…” Lance broke out into tears, “School was so stressful this week, and dancing was so stressful. Did you k-know that I started hating dancing..at one point this week? I stayed up till the wee hours of, of the morning t-to perfect this dance and today I still c-can’t do it right.”

“Stop crying..” Shiro pulled Lance into his embrace and patted his back, like how he would to a sobbing child, “You’ve been working yourself way too hard. Seems like you’re experiencing the effects of a burnout.”

“B-but.. the Christmas cover. We have to do it…” Lance cried.

“No, we don’t.” Shiro turned to Allura, who sighed but gave a nod of approval, “We can reschedule the filming, maybe next week, we might still be on time.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure our fans would want your health to come first.” Coran commented.

“Allura will k-kill me..” Lance was calming down by now, but was still shaking and unable to talk clearly.

“No, I won’t. Things like this happen. I’m sorry for pushing you so hard.” Allura apologised, genuinely guilty for being so harsh to Lance the other day which she figured caused all this in the first place.

“Alright? You heard her. Now let’s get you home.” Shiro said, squeezing Lance’s shoulder.

“I’ll drive him. I just live a few blocks away.” Keith volunteered, already working on supporting Lance out of the chair.

“You didn’t come in a car.” Pidge stated.

“But Lance did, and for some reason he made it all the way here in one piece. I’ll drive his car.” Keith said.

“Please don’t crash it. You know how much Lance loves his car.” Shiro said as he went up to the blue car to attempt to find Lance’s car key to start the car, but was surprised to hear the soft purr of the engine coming from it, “What in the world? He even forgot to turn off his engine.”

“Evidence that he was definitely very out of it.” Keith said, loading the weakened Lance into the backseat before getting into the front seat.

“Take care of Lance!” Coran shouted.

“I will!” Keith responded before closing the door behind him. He turned around to see Lance lying down in the back seat, eyes closed as he slept.

It was a silent fifteen minute drive before Keith heard rustling in the back, and observed from the rear-view mirror to see Lance’s eyes fluttering open.

“Wait, aren’t we supposed to be filming?” Lance said, confused.

“We did film, well, tried. You almost collapsed. You were so out of it you probably don’t remember. You’re overworked, so I’m sending you home.” Keith explained.

“Oh.” was all Lance could reply before he went back to sleep.

#hello i am actually a huge kpop nerd #voltron legendary defender #sick lance #what au do i even tag this #dance au #overwork #my writings

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sickdaysofficial · 7 years

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Jan. 29: “Good Samaritan”

Day 2: Good Samaritan

Warning for seizures? That’s it. Also a bit of a warning that the world this is in deals in magic and monsters. Find more about that on my OC blog, @the-entire-monster-kingdom, and find more of my I&I writing at @tokyoemeto!

___________

Ajax felt fine when he’d left the house earlier.

But that was earlier.

He felt fine the whole time, really. It was a nice day, even. He got to spend time in the older neighborhood and pet the outdoor cats and even help some of the locals in the garden. He’d gotten a few things in return to take home, and after a short detour, he was back out in town. It was, for once, a great day— Until he blacked out. No matter what one might expect, it wasn’t so easy to get used to having seizures. As much as Ajax had grown used to the idea of it, every time he found himself coming to while laying on the ground or snapping back into reality, it was jarring, especially when it was something that could even be less than a couple of minutes long, but ruin an entire day.

Everything seemed muffled at first. Far away, distant. Hazy. Warm, gentle hands touched him, moving him carefully. Everything seemed to dissipate once more before he finally came to, staring up at the person touching him dazedly. He wore white… Was that a cloak? He didn’t think many people outside of the old neighborhood wore those. He was probably an adventurer. He pushed his hand under Ajax, pulling him up gently after having laid him on his side. Ajax couldn’t help the groan that left him, supporting himself with a hand on the ground and running a hand through dark locks of hair. Though it seemed to hurt the stranger, he kneeled next to Ajax. “Hey, are you feeling okay?” His voice was gentle, as if they were out for a walk in the park, “You know where we are, right?” Ajax nodded. He felt like he couldn’t find his voice for a moment, finally finding words after coughing for a moment. “We're… We’re in the middle circle, right? Near the cafe?” The stranger stopped for a moment, looking around. He knew where they were, but he didn’t know there was a cafe. The kid was right, though. Maybe he should be questioning the stranger, and not the other way around. He flicked his hood back, looking the kid over with attentive eyes before touching his wrist carefully, like a glass doll as he tried to get a look at the bracelet, clearly a medical ID, that he wore. This was probably a common occurrence, then. Name. He needed a name. “Ajax… Right?” The human nodded, smiling sheepishly up at the stranger. He had tan skin, too, dotted with freckles all over his cheeks. “Uh… My name’s Noah. I'm… I’m not a doctor, but I know how to deal with a seizure… I’m, uh… I’m epileptic, too.” He gave him a bit of an awkward, crooked smile. It was an odd thing to bring up, or bond over, but it was nice to know that whoever was taking care of you knew what was happening from experience, he supposed. Ajax nodded, his eyes shifting down to his lap, then back up to Noah. Catlike ears sat atop his head. He was one of the inhuman. A Nexonian. They were the kind that… well… owned the place, really. It was their city. Noah let go of Ajax’s wrist, resting his hands on the ground in preparation to push himself up. “Hey, do you think you’re okay to move? We should get you… Home, I guess? You live right around here, yeah?” Ajax nodded again. Noah smiled. “Alright… Lemme get myself up. Last thing I want to do is fall on top of you because I got down on the ground.” He chuckled sheepishly, pushing himself up with his arms and rising slowly, wincing at the painful cracking in his knees. Once he was sure he was steady, he held a hand out to Ajax, bending forward a little. He really should have gone about it a different way, but thank the gods, Ajax was light. Pulling him to his feet, Noah took a few steps back, then came to his side as he rose, wrapping an arm around his back. He still seemed unsteady, but it was perhaps too much to carry him.

Taking a slow step forward, Ajax followed suit, and soon they had begun their short walk to Ajax’s apartment. It took some directions from the human, but someone who could figure out robots had no issue taking directions on how to get to a place maybe a block or two away. The hardest part were the stairs— The bane of Noah’s existence and the most difficult thing to try and deal with when you had only just come out of a seizure… At least, that didn’t involve machines. Taking extremely cautious steps, Noah held onto Ajax almost like his life depended on it as the human descended just after him. It was only a small set of stairs, just a few feet before they were in the hall in front of his apartment. Ajax gingerly tapped Noah’s hand with his lanyard, letting the inhuman take the keys and unlock the door before handing them back. Noah surveyed the room before he decided to settle on the couch as a good place to set Ajax down. Guiding him over, he set him down, looking around. It was a nice apartment. Clearly, someone else lived with him, but they didn’t seem to be here. Noah could easily sniff out their presence, but his first hint, more apparent to even humans, was the fact that… Well, Ajax didn’t seem to be the kind to play video games. Or watch horror movies. Noah didn’t take Ajax for the kind to watch many movies at all, but… Perhaps he’d have to find out later. “Hey, uh… Do you want a drink or something? Or something to eat? I don’t know what you have, but… Stay there, I’ll get something.” He finally let his hand leave Ajax’s shoulder as he shifted his attention to the kitchen, deciding to fill a glass with water and grab something light. A pack of crackers. Good enough. He returned to the living room with both in hand, sitting next to Ajax and handing over the glass first. He watched as Ajax took only a few sips of it before handing it back, Noah setting it on the coffee table in a spot not covered in papers and computers. By the looks of it, Ajax… or at least his roommate, Noah assumed, was a college student. Handing over the crackers, Noah decided to make small talk. “So… Uh… Do you go to college around here?” Ajax nodded, biting into a cracker. “Yeah, how’d you know?” Noah chuckled sheepishly. “It’s all over the papers on the table. What are you studying?” Ajax smiled a little. He seemed to like being asked so many questions. “Graphic design. I can’t really do normal work, but… Uh… I was thinking I could do something like that, I guess? And, it's… Uh… It’s kinda nice to go to class, I think. If I can’t really work normally, it’s fun to still do something.” Noah nodded. He wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover, but he didn’t think Ajax was that sick, upon first glance. “What do you do?” He smiled up at Noah. There was a good foot and a half difference between the two in height. “Me? Oh, uh…” Noah paused. He could say many things, but he didn’t want to just start with “I’m royalty”. He coughed. “I… I’m an engineer. I build and design stuff like robots and computers, and… I go out adventuring with my friend sometimes… Mercenary work.” He smiled. Ajax smiled, too, though with a hint of sadness. “That sounds like fun. I wanted to learn fire magic and be a mercenary, but… I don’t think it’ll happen.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. Noah couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy. If it weren’t for the gods and their magic… He wouldn’t even be alive, let alone running about and swinging swords around. He shrugged. “It's… It’s fun. It’s exhausting, but… It’s fun. I honestly wouldn’t be able to do it without magic to help me.” He looked down to Ajax. His ear twitched, the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps outside of the door. Was Ajax’s roommate an elephant or was that a neighbor? Ajax smiled again. “You know magic? How’d you learn it?” Noah gave another sheepish smile. He probably sounded like a complete lunatic. “I learned it from the gods. My family’s patron is the wind god, he… Uh… He made sure I stayed alive, and he taught me some magic, starting when I was… Eight? Ten? Old enough that I was out of the hospital most of the time.” He smiles a little. It was nice to talk to someone that wasn’t automatically afraid for him or trying to pity him when he mentioned how he’d been in the hospital. His ears twitched again, turning as the door opened.

The heavy footsteps were from a very clearly heavy person. Ajax’s roommate was another inhuman. She clearly had to be some form of demon, standing at eight feet tall, Noah guessed, and clearly made of mostly muscle. Her skin was a frosty blue color and her hair many different colors, ivory horns poking out from the rather fluffy mess. She looked at Ajax, then Noah, hanging her keys on a hook next to the door. “Jax, who’s this?” She laid her backpack by the door, standing on the other side of the table. Noah would have been terrified if he were any normal person. Ajax smiled, leaning forward. “Oh, this is Noah! He… Uh…” He smiled sheepishly. “He helped me get back after I had a seizure…” Her expression, harsh before, softened, now concerned. “You had a seizure? When? You should have called me.” She ducked into the kitchen for a moment, getting herself a glass of water, too. Ajax’s eyes sank to the table, trying to avoid her look. He didn’t like to worry her. “Uh… I got up.. ten minutes ago?” Noah nodded. “Yeah, it’s been… Twenty minutes at the most.” She nodded, sighing and looking between the two. She didn’t like strangers in the house, but damnit, Ajax clearly already liked the guy. “Mh… Uh…” She let her gaze rest upon Noah. “ Thanks, I guess. I don’t think either of us expected Ajax to have a seizure.” Ajax nodded, silent as he pushed another cracker into his mouth. Noah smiled. “Yeah, of course… I’d want someone to do the same for me.” He cleared his throat. “Uh… I should get back soon, but… Here,” Noah pulled a pen from his pocket, scribbling his number onto a scrap of paper. “Give me a call later and tell me how you’re feeling, okay? It was… It was nice talking to you, Ajax.” He handed over then paper with a smile. Ajax grinned, his expression much like a puppy. “You, too! I’ll make sure to call you later.” He kept the paper in his hand. “Uh… I guess I’ll see you around?” He watched as Noah stood up. He didn’t want him to go, but he didn’t want Kho to be uncomfortable with someone she didn’t know in the house. Noah nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you around. I live around here,too, so… We’ll probably run into each other.” He smiled, approaching the door and giving a slight wave. Ajax waved back at him, watching as he shut the door and disappeared. Even if a seizure could ruin a day, maybe this was the rare occasion where it made the day instead? He definitely thought so, but in either case, he still desperately needed to get some sleep after that.

#tw seizure #whump #illness #sickdays 4.0 #January 29 2018 #tokyoemeto #submission

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