#I hope the story and mechanics don’t fall flat :( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adelle-ein · 2 years ago

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lace's oc2path review

Disclaimer: I am deeply critical of this game and of Octopath 1, and I very much loathe COTC's overly edgy grimdark plot, so there will be a lot of negativity in this post. Don't like don't read!!!111 Also explicit spoilers for everything duh, and game typical content warnings.

Octopath and I have a��complicated relationship. It was my first Switch game. I had fond memories of it, even if it was never my favorite, I found it very hard, I really only cared about Primrose and Cyrus as characters, and I never even got all the secret jobs, let alone beat Galdera. Then the mobile game COTC came along, bringing with it a clusterfuck of horrific misogyny, racism, and frankly terrible grimdark story writing, severely souring my relationship with the franchise. I tried to replay it in 2022 and couldn’t even get to a chapter 2 — the grind was awful, the world was bland, the stories were just insufferably boring at best and misogynistic at worst. The lack of relationships or even acknowledgement between the characters made the whole thing feel stilted. Therion works alone, don’t mind the seven other people walking behind him! Now let’s explain the ways all the stories connect in a diary info dump locked behind a boss rush!

Octopath 1 has staggering design flaws and, as more and more JRPGS come to the Switch, those flaws become strikingly pronounced. Party dynamics are important to me, and without them, most of 1’s cast remained stubbornly boring. The game was hard, but not fun enough for me to want to grind OR learn advanced strats. Every chapter of every story follows the same basic plot beats and the layout of the world is boring and predictable, with even the scenery getting old eventually.

So I had mixed feelings when Octopath 2 was announced, especially when I saw they hadn't changed a single one of the main 8 classes and that the Crossed Paths would only be between four duos of characters. Still, the game went on sale for $40 in mid-April. Split the price with a sibling and here we are.

For starters: The graphics in this game are fantastic. I’m still not in love with HD-2D, mostly because of the lack of expressiveness in the tiny character pixels. Watching them flop over dead in a pile of blood in Triangle Strategy was only ever hilarious, and most emotional scenes fall flat. Strangely, Asano continues insisting on using this style for really drama-heavy, emotional games. Luckily, they’ve made some strides forward with OT2. The bigger human sprites are drastically more dynamic and expressive, move more fluidly than ever before, and have ample opportunity to demonstrate both emotion and personality. Everyone’s unique walk cycles and Bewildering Grace dances really bring character to the game. We can get a clearer look at job outfits and have animations for all kinds of things like dancing and character interactions. And HD-2D, as always, continues to shine in the backgrounds, special effects, and enemy sprites. The game is very pretty, and while I still don’t think HD-2D is the best choice for any character-driven game, the sprites don’t feel nearly as rough and awkward as they do in their predecessors. I hope Team Asano retains this style in future HD-2D installments, especially interpersonal ones.

The world is huge, sprawling, and genuinely FUN to explore this time, with various nooks and crannies to dig into. The day/night cycle and added path actions really add a lot of fun and variety to gameplay. The world not being a perfect circle moving outwards really makes things more exciting and less tedious, and the towns, cities, and dungeons had so much variety. I genuinely had fun on the journey this time, while in 1 i was just dragging myself from town to town. The bonus bosses, latent powers, hidden classes, sidequests, and various new game mechanics all felt like upgrades from the first game to me.

The music is banging, no criticisms here. I’ve gotten the impression before that Revo and Nishiki have been influenced by and learning from each other and I think this really shows it. Super fun, loved that we have more theme variants now. VA work was solid, with some very fun moments but nothing I was super amazed by. That's not a problem, though, it's really all I ask for in a game. Loved the added voice lines, the unique voice lines for certain bosses (I don't wanna fight no doggy-dog…), and how the characters interact with each other in battle as the game proceeds.

I’ll continue with my thoughts on the eight characters/stories one by one and then give some overall opinions on the “main plot” and game itself.

Ochette:

The constant food talk gets old fast. Seriously, every conversation this girl has ends up being about food or similar. I also think her voice acting may have been mixed oddly, sometimes it's quiet and sometimes at too high a volume, she ends up sounding REALLY loud and grating a lot of the time. Overall, she really doesn't feel as fleshed out as every other character, and it's a shame. That being said, she does have some very fun travel banters and brings a fun "kid of the group" energy, it's just…she's twenty goddamn years old.

Story-wise, had a lot of potential but constant food talk and the weird fantasy racism (why do they all speak broken English) were huge drags. I thought the stuff with the unchosen starter was a really good idea, but there just wasn't enough time lent to it, and overall the first and last chapters felt completely disconnected from the middle ones. Oh well.

Castti:

No mercy, only pain. She's just a great character who ended up with so much depth and felt like a twist on the kindly, maternal healer. "Do harm when necessary to save lives" is a great archetype for doctor characters and Castti plays the role fantastically. She has been through so much and still chooses to be gentle when she can, but if she has to she'll bring the axe down. She has a talent for making do. She has so many fantastic scenes and lines and flips the "mom friend" character around on its head. I really love her, she's great, she's up there with Primrose for me forever.

Her story was also my favorite, and her boss the toughest to beat by a comfortable margin (what worked in the end was no strategy just hikari, throne, and their knives). Sure, some beats are always predictable in Octopathland, but chapter 3 was beautifully done, and the use of game mechanics and the interface to play with the effects of Castti's amnesia were really enjoyable. Nothing groundbreaking, but a strong and solid story that felt emotional and meaningful as well as unique and independent from the stuff all three games have done and rehashed. Castti herself is of course a huge part of that, but this is one of the rare Octopath stories that didn't feel like it was being fully carried by the strength of the MC.

Throne:

Throne herself, I adore. She's fun, she's determined, she's witty, she's like Primrose in some ways but firmly different in others. She doesn't want to kill, but it's all she knows. She has some fantastic travel banters. I laughed out loud at her first "Bravo, Temenos." And the little "tada…" when she uses Disguise. She's great, she has endless potential, and boy does she have fun path actions.

Warning for discussion of incest, abuse, and rape in the following paragraph :(

Unfortunately, her story is the classic edgy Octopath misogyny fest. What was with that random sex slave and what the hell happened to her??? We don't care, she only exists to show that Bad Guys Evil and that Throne Can't Be A Hero Because She Is Tainted. Everyone wants to rape Throne and that is made way too clear. Some of those people are her fucking brothers, because why the fuck not. And the ending with the "but was it worth it?" tone was phenomenally stupid. Octopath asking the quintessential question: is it okay to escape slavery even if you have to kill your slavers? What if your slavers love you (even though they keep you in a collar and whip you and offer you up as a rape victim and force you to kill people?) What if your slavers are your parents or siblings? Also not loving any of the Marietta story, anything that involves "she killed our baby" is going to set my hair on end in this day and age and I just did not like the way any of that was portrayed and handled. Even if Claude didn't rape Marietta, it's clear he raped several of the other mothers including a few of the ones we meet, and they're all forcibly separated from their babies and left to die — it's just too much. It's too disgusting. The huge conspiracy itself fell flat due to the general creep factor and tried way too hard to be edgy. Throne cannot be happy within her story for even a second and it's way overdone. I'm sick, absolutely sick, of this type of story and COTC trying to play with "but she loves her abuser" stuff and doing a frankly disgusting and often fetishizing job. Overall, it felt like a COTC plotline, and that is very much a bad thing for me! I'm glad that the postgame sidequest cleared up the Mira plotline and actually had some "breaking the cycle" themes, but the fact that we've just apparently left the residents of Lostseed to suffer and die instead of even attempting to bring them to the Garden or somewhere they can get help is pretty gross.

But again, I adore Throne herself. Get her out of this game. Put her in Animal Crossing or something.

Osvald:

And now we flip around! Talk about pleasant surprises! I was not expecting to like him or his story at all, it felt so Octopath edgy and woman-in-fridges-y. And to an extent, it is, but the game is actually self-aware of this and gently pokes fun at it to a degree that makes it more bearable. Osvald is an Edgy Man and the other travelers can and will be confused by it. That's really fun. Being able to save Elena flips everything about the story on its head in a good way, and The Answer being The Power Of Love is both so funny and so sweet and fitting. Just a genuinely heartfelt and optimistic story in the end despite where it begins, I really liked it despite another dead wife on the pile. The antithesis to Throne's story.

My main complaint is that the story pacing ends up really off due to two out of five chapters being at the very start and about the prison escape. I really think he could have benefited from another chapter between his 3 and 4. I wish the ending was more emotionally satisfying, but it does feel in character and leave on a hopeful note. Would have enjoyed, if not a reunion scene between him and Elena, something more significant about them and their relationship than the tiny nod we got at the end. All that being said, liked both him and his story a lot!

Partitio:

He really is very funny. Those voice lines are a hoot, every Scent of Commerce is just ridiculous, and his determination to stop That Devil Called Poverty by having a polite meeting with the CEO of capitalism and giving him some $$$ is just absurd. As a character, I can’t say I find him as interesting as Castti, Throne, or Osvald, but he’s entertaining if nothing else, and his first chapter pacing is creative. He was my MC and spent tons of time running Arcanist Sidestepper or Latent Power Catapult Inventor, so of course I got pretty attached. Yeehaw let's do it catapult go-go-go

But let’s be real here. Any story about a merchant “helping the poor” by doing more capitalism is going to be kind of a mess. It wasn’t a harmful mess, but it felt like the story was deliberately skirting around making any meaningful commentary. None of this is surprising, but I spent a lot of chapter 4 rolling my eyes. Roque illegally modifying a contract after signature on multiple occasions is just completely brushed aside, and Partitio happily SIGNS a contract with him KNOWING Roque has a habit of violating and editing them. It’s all just very…dumb. Seize the means of production Partitio! Don’t just give The Man eighty billion leaves! Also, Roque apparently KEEPS all that money in the postgame even though he’s allegedly reformed, soooooo (I know he's using it on the railroads but like….Yeah)

But yeah, while it was a silly story, it wasn’t much else. He's a fun guy though. I wonder if octopath 3 will bring us our first edgy merchant MC.

Agnea:

She’s sweet and fun. I don’t really feel like I have a lot to say about her, which isn’t a negative? I enjoy her theme, I love all her dance animations, I think her constantly-slipping accent is pretty funny (I’m genuinely not sure if the premise is that Agnea hides her accent and occasionally slips into it by mistake, or if the VA keeps forgetting that Agnea is supposed to sound Southern and only remembers when Agnea says “oh my stars” or something lol. It’s funny though.) But like I said, I enjoy her, she’s not as grating as some of the other “goodhearted, happy go lucky” characters from 1.

Similarly, while I don’t have much to say about her story, that’s not to say I disliked it. I thought it was sweet. Dolcinea and her gf are some of my favorite NPCs in the game, the final battle kicked my ass in a fun way, and most of all I love how ¾ of Agnea’s bosses are just her going “I want to speak to the manager!!” and it actually working. I liked it a LOT better than tressa’s, which it’s constantly compared to, since it felt like an actual coherent story. She’s a star!

Temenos:

Fandom made me dislike Temenos before I set foot in the Crestlands. In those early days especially, every woman in this game was ignored in favor of an AVALANCHE of fanart of him and crick. People say weird shit about Temenos being a twink, some of which is frankly homophobic and/or creepy. I pretty strongly disliked his predecessor Fandom Favorite Man, Therion. Man had a lot riding against him. All that being said, once I got to know him I liked Temenos just fine! He's a priest who can't remember the Lord's Prayer and calls the scripture boring at every given opportunity. Also enjoys beating the shit out of people for information and can barely be contained by those around him. It's a fun character type.

His story, though, is honestly just blah. I guessed the big murderer about as soon as they appeared on screen, and by the time I finished the story I was pretty confident I knew who was manipulating them too…and I was right. As funny as it is that Temenos can use his "special powers" to just, like, see something lying on the floor, the investigation/mystery is really lacking and dull, which is disappointing. Particularly since his story is the "main" one that reveals the ultimate final boss, and the only one that gets a full follow-up cutscene in the extra chapters — it ended up just being a big pile of text dumping, which is not a fun way to do a mystery/whodunit!

Also Crick is boring.

Hikari:

Hikari is Just Fine. He's sometimes fun, largely unremarkable, just another member of the crowd. The same is pretty much true of his story as well — it's just Fine. Has a pretty hilarious mom-fridging as horses whinny loudly in the background, which I think was iconic. Dunban levels of "bad at making friends" (and while it's not "Therion works alone" levels of stupid by any means, does feel a little awkward that he keeps talking about needing his Allies and True Friends while seven people he camps with are standing right there…) I really just don't have a lot to say about him or his story, which isn't a bad thing! It was fine, he's fine. My only real complaint is that I don't love that his overcoming his Evil Blood was tied to him also having Good Blood on his mother's side — that detail seems irrelevant to everything, and I would have preferred his overcoming the Shadow and taking back his Hidden Power just be framed as him having willpower and a good, kind heart. But I am nitpicking here, since I think that was the intention — just wish blood hadn't been brought into it, y'know? Anyway yeah Hikari's fine.

Together Now:

The Crossed Paths are SO short (other than waiting for that insanely long lute performance to be over) and that's a shame. I wish there were more of them, between more characters, that they were longer…I hope any future Octopath games play with these concepts. Overall, I mean, it's a huge meaty game and it's not that I wanted to be playing it longer, I was satisfied by the length. I just really would have appreciated more character interaction. I'm glad that you can view the travel banters freely and easily from the menus now, and that there are more of them. But I do wish that the characters emoted during them instead of just standing there staring blankly at each other. Huge improvement over one, just not quite there yet!

I will say the Extra Chapters/final boss were also huge improvement over 1's, with actual cutscenes, some character interaction, more consistent foreshadowing, and finally, a boss with no boss rush leadup whose level of challenge is more "difficult but doable" than "haha fuck you." My hopes for this game had been that they would lower the final boss difficulty and make a bigger, harder bonus boss for hardcore players to enjoy, and I'm really happy that they did so! I beat Vide :)

That being said, most of the Extra Chapter reveals were entirely contained in heaps of diary entries again. You guys expect me to remember who Tanzy was or care?? Other than the Arcanette cutscene/battle, things never got that emotional or exciting. A few travel banters tried to fill in the blanks, but there just wasn't enough emotion or stakes put into the scenes. That being said, I enjoyed the Vide battle and it was the perfect difficulty level for me, and I enjoyed the ending and epilogue a lot! It just didn't quite do everything I want from a JRPG ending (which…has been my tune with almost every newly released JRPG I've played in the last couple years :( we need better endings in these things.)

Will also say that the Osterra nods don't really make sense, but I'm personally subscribing to Osterra and Solistia straight up being parallel worlds (I suspect COTC will be confirming this one way or another in the JP version shortly, but like, eh).

Overall, it was a good game, I liked it, it's hands down my favorite Octopath and probably my second favorite Asano game after BD2. Despite my complaints, wishes things had diverged further from the original game, and generally feeling like this series is a bit overrated in JRPG circles, Oct2path is solid, fun, and a big upgrade from its predecessors. Stan Castti

#lace reviews #txt #octopath traveler spoilers #octopath traveler 2 spoilers #octopath 2 spoilers #octopath traveler ii spoilers

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kiri-cuts · 2 years ago

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An adorable Nietzsche death star in “The Super Mario Bros. Movie”

For a few months back in the thick isolating tar of 2020, I sat in my damp one-bedroom flat and dramatically envisioned myself as Artex, the ethereal equine who sinks into the Swamp of Sadness in “The Neverending Story.” “Blub, blub,” I’d say to the quiet company of mold in the corners of the walls. “Down I go.”

I’d dream about my head sinking promptly into the muck, one feature at a time. My round chin and miserable little downturned mouth checking themselves in at the one-star beach resort of death called Depression, my flared nostrils padding themselves closed with soil, my eyes nestling into the sweet slumber of swampytime. My hair would be the last to go, submerging itself with all the joyful enthusiasm of a lump of sugar into a thick latte foam.

As it turns out, the Swamp of Sadness ain’t worth shit. Pull yourself into its deepest and most suffocating clot all you want, but you’ll still have to work, eat, do the dishes, wake up every day, etc. Artex never had that problem –- lucky bastard –- and the brochure for Depression certainly left those details out of its marketing spiel (no wonder it was only a one-star resort).

A few months earlier I’d bought a Nintendo Switch on an impulse purchase. It was an item I couldn’t particularly afford, but brains pushing for death don’t exactly fixate on such details. And so it was that I played “Mario Odyssey” in the midst of an agonising funk, and on a daily basis the aforementioned swamp would get temporarily hosed off. For much of the game, I was horrendous at preserving Mario’s life. The little jump-crazed dungaree enthusiast died a million deaths –- each one more punishing and avoidable than the last.

This was never intentional, I’m just terrible at games. But as it went on, and the game progressed, I realised that this was potentially the entire point of many Super Mario games and others of its ilk. As each level wore on, muscle memory kicked in and I fell into the various bouncy rhythms of survival that Mario has to offer.

In order to be victorious, Mario had to repeatedly eat shit. He had to fall off walls, ricochet off lava, get his arse chewed out by a mega-chain chomp, and drown. And then next time, maybe he wouldn’t. In fact, death helps to ease the navigation for the next attempt –- you know what not to do and where not to do it. As Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Death is close enough at hand so we do not need to be afraid of life.” Amen, brother.

This mechanism is referenced within “The Super Mario Bros. Movie,” in which Mario –- in an attempt to simultaneously impress his bird and save his cowardly brother –- must complete a treacherous obstacle course. And of course, he absolutely eats shit in his first attempt –- but he gets better.

Perhaps the greatest reflection of this ideology, though, comes courtesy of a luminescent glow of nihilism called Lumalee –- a delightful prisoner caged up in Bowser’s dungeon who cheerfully proclaims an abundance of cynical statements in favor of death. “There is no escape. The only hope is the sweet relief of death,” they joyfully muse. Later, when the film’s finished, they gleefully tell the audience, “Everything’s over now and all that’s left is you and infinite void.” Our boy Nietzsche would be proud.

For those in the know (so, not me), Lumalee is based on a species of creatures called Luma from “Super Mario Galaxy.” At the end of that game, a whole adorable group of them happily kamikaze into death’s sweet embrace courtesy of a black hole fashioned by Bowser. Like Steve-O in a glass factory, these little cuties just absolutely love the chaos of life, the natural sting of pain, and the delicious thrall of extinction. It really puts things in perspective.

While I have no doubt there are some players who can walk through every level of any “Super Mario” game without a single misstep or death –- just as there are people in this world who have likely never had to face a single day of depression or anxiety –- the purpose is to repeatedly face death. To endure it, to return to it, to vanquish it. Live, die, repeat. Collect enough hearts in the game, and you’re more or less impervious to whatever spikes life –- or levels –- have in store for you. As Nietzsche once put it, “One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive.” And Mario does, good sir. Oh, how he does. And he absolutely motherfucking loves it, too.

And I can’t lie, after I’d gatecrashed Bowser’s wedding, smashed his bird, and drank the free bar of his castle dry to the point that I could reach the “Mario Odyssey” finale, I actually felt emotional. Me and this little Italian plumber had been through so many deaths together and come through it all smiling –- just a couple of big cocky lads kicking over the big boi’s nuptials bash. Somehow, I didn’t feel the sweet embrace of that swamp anymore. In fact, I momentarily forgot it existed. And yes, so I then got up everyday, and I ate shit everyday –- we all did, and we still do. But there are so many 1-Ups. And when all else fails, there’s always nihilism.

#the super mario brothers movie #super mario #mario odyssey #nihilsm #lumalee #nietzschequotes #friedrich nietzsche #nintendo #mental health

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siyasims · 3 years ago

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The Fatal Flaws Legacy Challenge

The premise of this challenge is that each generation is confronted with a “fatal flaw” that they either decide to overcome or revel in. The reason I wrote this challenge was because I realized that the sims I enjoyed playing most were ones with “negative” traits. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope at least one other person has fun playing it :)

The only generations that really require an expansion pack are gen 4: squeamish, because that particular trait comes from outdoor retreat and gen 7: lazy, because it requires you to adopt animals.

Google Doc Link

Notes:

This challenge is greatly improved by any mods that make actually traits matter, e.g. personality please, roburky’s meaningful stories.

This challenge is more story-based than game-play based, though there’s elements of both

You don’t need to complete the aspirations! They’re only meant as a guide + are also there for the sake of the aspiration trait.

You don’t need to complete the careers either, unless its a gen that specifically requires it.

Feel free to go to university any generation if you feel like it suits your sim’s story/you want to.

Generation One: Mean

you didn’t grow up in the happiest or most functional of households. and so you moved out as soon as you could. now it’s just you, your dog, and your shitty job. you’re kind of an asshole, but you can’t help it – it’s a deep-seated defense mechanism from your past. other people can’t hurt you if you hurt them first, right? but as you grow older, you start to realise that, more than anything, you want the loving family you never had. if only you could find someone who could make it past your terrible social skills in order to see the big heart you have hidden underneath.

traits: mean, dog lover (base game: loyal) + family orientated (YA)

aspiration: big happy family

career: retail + can pick another part time career as an adult on top of that (optional)

rules

start the generation as a teen on an empty lot.

drop out of high school using a mod, or just simply don’t go.

make money from the retail career + dumpster diving, fishing, collectibles, anything, just never get a proper full time job. you never finished high school, after all.

when you age up into young adult, meet and woo a sim of your choice (optional: they have the good trait.)

be mean and rude to everyone come across until you fall in love with your future spouse.

have at least three kids and become at least ‘friends’ level relationship with all of them.

Cats and Dogs: have a dog with the friendly trait, become companions with them.

Parenthood: if you want an extra challenge, age up from teenager to have the insensitive trait from negative empathy.

Generation Two: Slob

you’re in love with your roommate. your perfect, beautiful, neat-freak of a roommate. unfortunately, they don’t seem to feel the same way about you, and it’s your confession that causes them to move out. or could the piles of dirty dishes, the clothes on the floor, and the rotten food in the fridge have something to do with it? will you go against your nature to show your commitment to your one true love and try to win them back? or will you wallow in your own filth – forever?

traits: slob, romantic, geek or creative

aspiration: soulmate

career: freelance programmer or freelance artist (or another work-from-home career of your choosing)

rules

move out as a young adult into a flat or an apartment with one or more roommates. one of these roommates must have the “neat” trait.

try to be as filthy as you possibly can. leave trash everywhere. never do the dishes. showering = optional.

fail a “confess attraction” interaction with the neat roommate aka. the love of your life. this should be relatively easy if you have one or both sims in bad moods. then have the roommate move out into another lot.

try to win your roommate back by cleaning up your disgusting house OR find another slob sim who loves you for who you are and complete the soulmate aspiration

have at least one child with your soulmate so you have an heir.

+ Eco Lifestyle: woohoo in a dumpster at least once in your life.

+ Bust the Dust: complete the fabulously filthy aspiration, and befriend at least one dust bunny.

+ Parenthood: for an extra challenge, become a young adult with the bad manners trait (from growing up with negative manners)

Generation Three: Hot-Headed

you’re a good sim, honest! actually, you love other sims. you even moved to the city so you could be around more of them. but that doesn’t change the fact that you have a teensy bit of an anger problem. you just can’t help it when you look at the state of the world! especially when you see other sims suffer – you get so, so angry you feel like you’re going to explode! can you manage your anger enough that you can avoid hurting someone? or will you accidentally take it out on someone who doesn’t deserve it?

traits: hot-headed, good, green fiend or music lover.

aspiration: friend of the world.

career: Charity Organiser (or any career that fits your personal definition of good)

rules

move out as a young adult.

make friends with at least five people in the same neighbourhood as you

get into a fight with at least one evil sim

do good deeds wherever you can! pick up litter, tip performers, help your neighbor fix their broken toilet etc.

have at least one child/heir.

+ Parenthood: receive the compassionate trait (age up with positive empathy)

+ volunteer at least once a week

+ City Living: move to a san myshuno apartment as a young adult

+ make friends with all the people in your building

+ meet your partner at the romance festival

+ Werewolves: if occults are your thing, werewolf gameplay really fits the theme of this generation

Generation Four: Squeamish

your parent might be a little rough around the edges, but they truly are a wonderful person. inspired by them to do good in the world, it’s been your life-long dream to become a doctor. you walk into work on the first day of your new job with a spring in your step, determined to do anything to succeed – except, hold on a minute, is that blood?! (This Gen requires Outdoor Retreat)

traits: squeamish, ambitious, high maintenance (base game: vegetarian)

aspiration: inner peace (or anything you want)

career: doctor (if you don’t have get to work, try becoming a vet instead or alternatively, you can try rebelling against your parent and becoming a criminal (boss branch))

rules

reach the top of your chosen career

role a die two sim hours into every work day. if it lands on 6, your sim freaks out and has to go home early.

have a mounted fish on the wall at your place of work. don’t ask why. its just the workplace fish.

be sent to granite falls to try to complete the insect collection (for medical purposes if you’re a doctor/vet, for mischief purposes if you’re a criminal). oh, and you have to stay in a tent. (note: if you manage to successfully complete the collection, cheat yourself a promotion)

marry a coworker and have at least one child, but you must either adopt or have your partner carry the baby – there’s absolutely no way you’re giving birth.

+ Spa Day: do yoga or meditate at least once a week to cope with the stresses of your job.

+ Parenthood: receive the good manners trait (age up with positive manners)

Generation Five: Hates Children

life has never been very serious for you. sure, you exchange promise rings with someone in high school, but that doesn’t actually mean anything, does it? with adulthood comes a rude awakening in the form of a failed degree AND a failed relationship. but now you’re free to focus on your one true passion, comedy. or are you? you somehow end up with a screaming, vomiting, poop-machine on your hands. it’s your worst nightmare, but at least it makes for great comedy material. and just maybe you won’t be such a bad parent after all.

traits: hates children, goofball + unflirty (YA)

aspiration: joke star

career: comedian

rules

find a partner as a teen and exchange promise rings.

move out with your high school sweetheart as soon as you become a young adult

have the relationship slowly break down while cohabitating

break up right after a successful try for baby/risky woohoo + immediately move out

raise the resultant child on your own and never get into another romantic relationship

when your offspring ages into a toddler, they should be assigned the “fussy” trait.

become best friends with your child before they age into a teen.

+ University: enroll in a degree but drop out after one semester

+ Parenthood: try to reach level ten of the parenting skill

Generation Six: Materialistic

growing up with a struggling comedian as a single parent has made you hungry for the finer things in life. you hustle and grind, climbing up from the bottom, and earn yourself all the wealth and expensive, beautiful things you could ever want. you even get yourself a gorgeous spouse and kids to share your riches with. except - your marriage falls apart and it turns out there was a tiny little detail in the pre-nup that you didn’t take notice of. you lose everything, and you’re devastated. do you have what it takes to work yourself back to riches a second time? or have you decided that working a 9 to 5 job is kind of boring, anyway?

traits: materialistic, overachiever (base game: self-assured), adventurous (base game: loves outdoors)

aspiration: mansion baron

career: any part time job (teen) + business (ceo branch) + your choice

rules

work a part time job as a teenager

as an young adult, get married and have kids with another materialistic sim.

reach level ten of the business career.

once you reach level ten of your career, have your spouse divorce you and take everything, including your job.

quit your job and move out with 20,000 simoleons into a starter home, or if you want your spouse to be really evil, into an empty lot with 0 simoleons.

try and reach level 10 of another career OR pay your bills by living off the land, hippie-style (or doing any kind of adventure-y, outdoors-y career of your choice. for example, treasure hunter (jungle adventure), teaching skiing classes or earning royalties through snowboarding videos (snowy escape))

have your kids move in with you when you can support them.

+ Snowy Escape: go on at least one vacation to mount komorebi while you’re still married and get really into skiing, snow-boarding and/or mountain climbing.

+ move there after your divorce to spend more time pursuing your favourite hobby/s

+ High School Years: complete the “goal orientated” teen aspiration

Generation Seven: Lazy

(cw: animal neglect) you’ve always loved animals, but even though you were given everything else you wanted growing up, your parent was allergic and so you never really had pets past the goldfish in your backyard pond. naturally, as soon as you grow up and move out you adopt as many animals as you can! little did you know that taking care of other living beings is hard work. eventually all the animals you adopted decide to up and leave you due to your laziness. heartbroken, you debate trying again, eventually deciding to give animal ownership another go. but you first make yourself a promise - you’re never going to let any animal under your care suffer again, no matter the effort it takes! (This Generation requires Cottage Living or Cats and Dogs)

traits: lazy, childish, animal enthusiast or cat/dog lover.

aspiration: friend of the animals

career: vet (cats and dogs) or farmer (cottage living)

rules

upon moving out as a young adult, adopt as many animals as you can (at least 7). it will probably be chaos.

have them all run away/get taken away due to neglect.

after an appropriate period of mourning/self-reflection, adopt replacement animals, but only a manageable amount.

reach full friendship with all of your new animals and repent for your sins.

nap at least once a day.

whatever your career, take plenty of vacation days.

get married to a client (vet) or a local (cottage living)

have at least one child to be the heir.

+ Parenthood: if you want an extra challenge, receive the irresponsible trait upon aging up from a teen (negative responsibility)

Generation Eight: Snob

you’ve always had a sense of knowing better than everyone else, much to your family’s annoyance. whatever, you don’t need those backwards philistines anyway. you move out and decide that you’re going to make a living off your sharp eyes and critical mind, and make friends with like-minded sims. being amongst your kind for the first time is enjoyable at first, until inevitably they turn their criticism towards you. “what are they wearing?” you hear someone whisper, “you can tell they grew up on a farm.” embarrassed and upset, you decide to ditch your new friend group. will you ever find people who love you for who are? (Get Together recommended but not necessary)

traits: snob, art lover, clumsy

aspiration: leader of the pack (base game: painter extraordinaire or best-selling author)

career: art critic (base game – painter (patron of the arts) or writer (author branch))

rules

move out as soon as you’re a young adult, avoid contact with your family and any childhood friends you may have had.

make friends with other snobs in your neighbourhood, and routinely visit the museum together

after you reach level 5 or 6 in your career, or at a time you think is appropriate, quit your snobby friend group

make friends with new, non-snob sims.

fall in love with one of your friends and have at least one child to be the heir

get back in touch with your family after you have a child

reach level 10 of your career

+ Get Together: create a club that has the snob trait as a requirement, gather at the museum and critique the art.

+ quit the club at when you ditch your snobby friends and start a new club that has ‘art lover’ as a requirement, have it be enemies with your old club.

Generation Nine: Noncommittal

there’s nothing you value more than your freedom. you flee the nest as soon as you graduate high school – finally nothing to hold you down! you bounce between jobs and relationships, never quit committing to anything, until an ill-advised one night stand changes your life. they fall in love with you, and one of you falls pregnant. to make matters worse, their father happens to be your newest boss, and in your paranoia you become convinced that you won’t be able to leave his child and still live. to avoid imminent assassination, you propose. so now you’re engaged and stuck in a career you only joined as a temporary way to make ends meet. from your perspective, there’s only one way you can go to escape your job and your impending marriage – up.

traits: non-commital, socially awkward (base game: loner), paranoid (base game: erratic)

aspiration: serial romantic

career: various + criminal (either branch)

rules

move out as soon as you age up to a young adult.

have at least 5 casual relationships and try at least three different careers before joining the criminal career.

have a one night stand with a sim whose father is ranked level 9 in the criminal career. this one night stand results in pregnancy.

get engaged to your one night stand after getting walked in on by their father.

your goal is to get out of your relationship and your job by climbing through the career ranks until you outrank your fiance’s father (level 10).

after reaching level 10 of the criminal career, become friends with your fiance’s father and realise he’s actually a nice guy who probably wouldn’t have you assassinated.

decide to end the engagement as soon as you reach level 10 or slowly and reluctantly fall in love your fiancé now that you realise you’re not as trapped as you thought.

quit your job – congratulations, you’re finally free!

+ High School Years: complete the “live fast ” teen aspiration

Generation Ten: Evil

(cw: murder) you’re the definition of an extrovert – a social butterfly. an evil social butterfly. you’re not sure how you turned out this way. maybe it was how you were raised. maybe its just how you were born. maybe it’s just in your DNA. either way, you’re pretty sure you’re not going to change. there’s actually not a smidge of character development in sight. so - you might as well have fun with the life you were gifted, and be an agent of chaos until the day you die.

traits: evil, outgoing, cheerful.

aspiration: party animal

career: anything you want!

rules

complete the social butterfly aspiration as a child

as a teenager, have lots of friends, but pick one unfortunate classmate to bully.

move out and party like crazy!

go to a nightclub at least one night a week

host a party at least one night a week.

reach level 10 charisma and have a lot of friends

have at least 10 parties where at least one sim dies. they can die however you want, only you must be the cause in some way. if all else fails, just lock them in a room of your house and let them die of starvation.

keep all the graves of your victims as trophies

have a secret evil lair/prison in your basement.

have as many relationships as you want but only settle down once you find another evil sim.

die as a result of one of your evil schemes going wrong

+ Realm of Magic/Vampires: if occults are your thing, feel free to become a spellcaster/vampire so that your evil deeds are easier to accomplish.

+ High School Years: complete the “drama llama” teen aspiration

#sims 4 challenge #sims 4 challenges #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 challenge #ts4 challenges #ts4 legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #the fatal flaws legacy challenge

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Note

What about a mix of two prompts?

“i've never been kissed before so you volunteer but i decline, we're best friends and it would be weird, but a couple hours later i lay awake in my bed and i can't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you and suddenly i regret what i said”

and

“two characters look at each other. silence. then. BOOM BANG LIPS CRASHING CAN'T RESIST YOU ANYMORE BAM BOOM THERE'S A WALL LET'S PIN YOU AGAINST IT”

of Din Drjarin/f!reader?

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I love this combination so much! Hope you enjoy this 💖 And for the others who made requests, they're in the works!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: alcohol consumption, spice

You and Mando were sitting in your usual evening position—back-to-back in the middle of the hull—so he could lift his helmet just enough to eat. You’d finished dinner a while ago, and now you were passing a flask of whiskey back and forth over your shoulders. The last few hunts had been long and hard, but the carbonite chamber was now at capacity, so you were taking a night off before returning to Nevarro.

As the flask got lighter and the sky visible through the open ramp faded from a dusky twilight to a velvety black, you inched closer together until you were fully leaned against one another. He was fairly comfortable as a backrest considering the amount of metal and weaponry strapped to his body.

Your conversation had been skirting dangerous territory for a while now—a place you’d been working towards for months if you were being honest. You weren’t supposed to be doing this though: the easy friendship, the light teasing, and the casual intimacy of spending weeks together in a confined space were supposed to stop there... not progress into anything more. You were hunting partners—that was it.

Yet, here you were telling him about your first kiss.

“What about you, Mando? I mean... is kissing even allowed for Mandalorians?”

You reached back to pass him the flask. He took a pull and then—in his unmodulated voice, which was always slightly distracting—said, "Mandalorians touch the foreheads of their helmets together... it's called a Keldabe kiss.”

“That’s very sweet and all, but what about actual kissing? Is that allowed? Or are you only allowed to bonk your metal heads together?”

He scoffed and tilted his helmet back to lightly knock against the back of your head. You laughed and knocked him back.

(That only counts as a Mandalorian kiss if you’re facing each other... right?)

“So?”

“Yes, it’s allowed. If you find someone you trust, there are options... blindfolds, dark rooms... eventually, marriage.”

You ignored the way your heart dropped a little more at each of those options. Instead, you pressed him again: “Okay, so... what was your first kiss like?”

“I don’t have a good story like you do.”

You nudged his side with your elbow. “Oh come on, just tell me! I told you mine, so you have to tell me yours. That’s how the game works.”

You heard him exhale and take another long pull from the flask. He passed it back to you over his shoulder. “Isn’t it my turn to ask a question though?”

You scrunched your eyebrows together. Honestly, you’d lost track of whose turn it was at this point, but he’d answered every other random question you’d thrown at him, even the intrusive one about the craziest places he’d had sex. He’d even thrown you some bold curveballs. But he didn’t want to tell you about his first kiss?

It hit you all at once.

“You’ve never kissed anyone.” You blurted the thought before remembering to pass it through your usual verbal filter.

“No, I haven’t,” he confirmed.

“Oh,” was all you can think to say. You took a sip, and the whiskey burned slightly as it went down your throat. You reached back to hand it over again.

His gloved fingers brushed yours when he took it from you. “I never trusted anyone enough in the past.”

In the past.

Your thoughts raced as you tried to decide if that wording was intentional.

...he was sitting here, leaned against you, lifting his helmet in your presence, in the present…

That had to mean something.

You couldn’t help but ask the question that seared through your mind, “Do you trust me?”

He let a pause stretch out between you, laden with the implication of your question, and shifted slightly against your back. “Yes.”

Your heart rate kicked up. There was so much potential in that yes that you couldn’t help but push forward.

“I would kiss you.”

It came out sounding like an offer, but you really meant it as a want. You wanted to kiss him. You’d held that truth for a while now—months probably—keeping it close to your chest, knowing that it would likely live there forever. There was no room for attachment in your utilitarian partnership, or in his strict Creed and your nomadic existence. Kissing him was an unrealistic daydream, a passing thought you regularly ignored.

Though... it was harder to ignore when he let his gloved hand linger on your waist, or threw himself into the line of fire to protect you, or wordlessly accepted joint commissions from Karga as if your partnership was implicit. He’d been doing all those things more and more often.

And now, your carefully guarded truth was lingering out there, floating freely between you. You started to panic as the silence stretched on and scrambled to snatch it back: “I mean... if you want to know what it’s like.”

You immediately regretted adding that qualification. That wasn’t why you said it.

Another strained moment of silence passed.

“It wouldn’t make for a very good story,” he finally replied. He was trying to make light of the weird situation, but it came out flat in his modulated voice. He was obviously uncomfortable... and uninterested.

You were so incredibly grateful that he couldn’t see your face at that moment. You forced out an unconvincing laugh and said: “Right.”

The chirping of the crickets outside suddenly seemed deafening in the fraught silence that settled between you. You felt him adjust against your back once more. The flask appeared in your periphery, and you grabbed it quickly, taking a long pull.

Fuck.

You could tell that you had just taken the quiet, tenuous potential of your friendship and obliterated it with one awkward sentence.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he said, pushing himself to his feet behind you.

You nodded vaguely and stayed where you were, staring out into the starry night, until you heard the mechanical click of his bunk closing behind him.

It was never going to happen—you’d always known that. It had never been a real possibility. And yet, in some shadowy corner of your traitorous heart, the tiniest bit of hope had taken root, cultivated by months of lingering touches and endless time spent together in hyperspace. And it hurt to have that fledgling hope completely crushed.

Eventually, you closed the ramp and plopped down on the spare cot against the wall. You tossed and turned for a long time, wondering if Mando would even want to partner with you for jobs any more. Probably not.

You froze when you heard his bunk slide open and the sound of his feet hitting the floor. You expected to hear him walk to the refresher, but when you didn’t hear his footsteps, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

He was facing you, backlit by the light of his open bunk. His silhouette was different than usual—with a jolt, you realized that he was completely unarmored aside from his helmet. The hands that were twitching and clenching by his sides were bare. You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot, waiting for him to do something... anything. The silence between you wasn’t strained now; it was charged, electric, expectant.

He reached back and pressed a button on the wall behind him and his bunk slid shut, bathing the space in complete darkness. You heard him take two steps toward you, then stop. He was waiting for you in the middle of the hull, wordlessly asking you to meet him halfway.

So you did.

You weren’t sure what to do once you were standing a foot in front of his dark outline. You waited for a moment, then you both stepped towards each other at the same time, his hands—you faintly registered that you were feeling his skin on yours for the first time—finding your arms in the darkness. You pressed one palm to the soft fabric covering his chest, tilted your face up... and waited.

He needed to be the one who took that final step.

After he released a shaky exhale through the modulator, his right hand left your bicep to reach up and grip the lip of his helmet. Your stomach swooped in anticipation when you heard the pneumatic release, and you watched the dark shape being lifted from his head.

You could feel the beating of his heart under your fingertips as he lowered his hand to his side, helmet grasped in his fingers. He leaned down, and you couldn’t help but lean up to meet him. Your lips connected sloppily in the dark, off-center and a little harder than you meant, but you corrected yourselves quickly. You thought about how soft his lips were as you moved yours against his; you smiled against his mouth when you noted the tickle of his mustache, and he exhaled against you when you reached up to map out the rest of his face with your hands: scratchy stubble along his jawline, a sharp nose, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, soft hair feathered across his forehead.

He let out a satisfied moan and gripped you a little tighter when you parted your lips to run your tongue experimentally along his pouting bottom lip. He responded in kind, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, his tongue tentatively working its way into your mouth. A muffled moan slipped from your own lips, and you slid one hand under the hem of his shirt, dragging your palm up the rippling muscles of his back.

Mando seemed to be emboldened by your exploration; his helmet clanged against the floor when he let it fall, and both his hands were suddenly roaming over your body, large palms cupping your breasts through your shirt. In an instant, a kiss that had started out as uncertain and eager was suddenly hot and desperate. He backed you toward the ladder with decisive steps until you were pinned between it and his broad chest. His hands worked their way down your back, over the swell of your ass, until he was gripping the backs of your thighs. You linked your hands behind his neck, so he could hoist your legs up and around his middle.

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and his lips found your skin. He trailed kisses up, until he paused with his mouth by your ear.

“It was worth the wait.”

***

everything taglist: @chattychell @fisforfulcrum @meanperegrine @over300books @rebelpitstop @spideysimpossiblegirl @tacticalsparkles @tobealostwanderer @trashbuns @tuskens-mando

#my writing #requests #asks #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin reader insert #mando fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian reader insert #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x you #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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sisterlelianas · 4 years ago

Text

another life (oh, if only you knew)

ao3 link

this is a “small” (🤡) one-shot where our lady alcina dimitrescu meets the woman who ends up being her future lover for the first time before she’s turned into a vampire. they meet again, centuries later and are both unprepared to face each other, in their own way. In other words: they are gay ❤️ + someone tell these two fools how to navigate their feelings for each other, PLEASE

word count: 10.810 words (yeah, i know)

author’s notes: a huge chunk of this was written before i played the game, meaning most of it (including things regarding Heisenberg’s powers, etc) is not canon compliant, still, i feel like going against canon is a good thing for us, anyway. y’all know what i mean. SO! this one-shot is actually really close to my heart. alcina and the girls live in my head absolutely rent free and i don’t even mind. hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it

p.s. this is the first fic that i have ever posted and written. blame it on our milf

Big, social gatherings were useful in their own, distinct way. Meeting counts, their wives, the countesses... the secret lovers of those same counts, which everyone, but the wives, were aware of... there were plenty of those. Never a dull moment, truly. Attending a party your dear, darling husband organised, however, was a different story. Alcina Dimitrescu was not the kind of woman to be more than glad to step back from her role and allow a man to take the reigns for her, to allow him to play the part of the head of the house. She oftentimes found herself wishing for his... mysterious disappearance. He could even flat out drop dead - she was not picky.

The overwhelming noise of constant blabbering from her guests was beginning to irritate her, though. Meaningless social affairs were most definitely beneath the Countess - hiding the frown that would frequently settle on the corners of her mouth, after a particularly loud cackle from one of the men, by sipping some wine seemed to be turning into a recurring move for the woman. Everywhere she looked all she could see was uninteresting people playing a part. Acting as if they were all happy to be there. What else was new? The same faces carrying out the same conversations. The worst part was that her husband had the most... particular taste in friends. They were all male, of course, and so incredibly stupid and dull. The kind you look at and just know they won’t be saying anything insightful throughout the entire affair. Men, the Countess mused. What else could you expect from such limited beings? The mere thought of them making her frown deeper, her lips pursing slightly for what seemed like a millisecond.

Her husband was fuelled by attention - seemed to thrive off it, actually. She turned to look at him from the red, bergère chair she was sitting on and observed his behaviour from afar. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding a golden goblet filled to the brim with red wine. The contents of it would often spill and fall to the floor whenever he would give a hearty laugh or swing his arms around to better illustrate whatever dull-witted point he was trying to make. The goblet was filled to the brim no longer and his cheeks were rosy, meaning he was far from being sober, at that point. It was only a matter of time before she had to step in and chastise him for acting like a fool whose goal seemed to be disgracing House Dimitrescu, something the Countess would never turn a blind eye to. She held on to her own goblet of wine tighter, then. Luckily, it was not made of glass, or it would have shattered.

She exhaled harshly from her nose, once, before a charming, almost musical laugh broke her reverie. She had to keep herself from snapping her head to the side to look at where the sound had come from, making her movements slow and precise instead, so as to not draw attention to herself or her newfound curiosity. Well, well. Now that was a pleasant sight. The sound had come from a woman. An extremely beautiful one, at that. Her hair was brown, braided most elegantly, and complemented her features in a way that was almost indescribable. The warm lighting of the ballroom they were in altered it’s hue, reminding the other woman of free, autumn leaves, drifting gracefully in the wind. The Countess wondered how long the woman’s hair would be if she were to free it from the pins that were holding it in place.

Her dress was red, cut somewhat generously at the front. Bold, for the gathering she was attending, though it certainly made a statement, it would seem. The frame fitting, silken dress appeared to draw the attention of several men, who, of course, barely even bothered to make eye contact with the woman whenever they spoke to her. This made Alcina’s lips curl down momentarily in disgust. Men could truly be such dogs, she thought.

The brown haired woman captured the attention of every person around her whenever she’d speak, although the smile she wore did not reach her hazel coloured eyes - it had a subtle, mechanical look to it - and her posture was slightly too stiff, as if she studied every move before actually moving. Her smile, her demeanour... it was all clearly forced, but only those who were paying very close attention could see through her mask. The woman’s eyes then shifted downwards when she sipped her wine. She felt a pair of eyes on her - sort of like how you feel when roaming around in a haunted house, you don’t see anything, yet feel everything, only this time, the feeling was more than welcomed. Drifting her eyes upwards, she finally met the Countess’s gaze. Almost like a magnet. How intriguing. She was, indeed, hauntingly beautiful, the mysterious woman thought.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, in a way that was almost too cliché. The brunette half-hoped she could relive the moment all over again. She could not look away. They both couldn’t.

The woman’s lips were still hidden behind the glass of wine, but her eyes told the Countess all she needed to know. They stared at each other for what seemed like centuries and every second of it was absolutely delicious - the brunette didn’t shy away from Alcina’s prying eyes at all, she seemed to revel in the fact that she was the one the Countess was looking at - her chest puffed slightly, her head tilting upwards a bit, and when she finally removed the goblet from her face she had an almost missable smirk painting her soft, red lips, making one of Alcina’s eyebrows arch slightly. Ah, at this rate, the things you could see just by looking into another person’s eyes was almost criminal.

Their staring contest was, much to Alcina’s chagrin, broken when a particularly loud and obnoxious laugh came from her husband. The fool was probably trying to charm one of his guests for the umpteenth time that evening. Having had enough, she stood up at once and took long strides towards him so as to not allow him to embarrass himself, or, rather, her, any further. The room didn’t fall silent, but several people spoke in a hushed tone as they watched the Countess walk towards the opposite side of the room. The way she moved was almost hypnotic - the skirts of her dress shifted delicately, her face completely still, not betraying any emotions, not a hair on her head out of place. It was almost as if she was floating.

“Beloved,” the sound of her voice evoked an immediate reaction out of her husband, who quickly turned to face her, visibly sputtering, and out of several other people near them. Heads literally turned.

Everyone knew who was at the helm of House Dimitrescu, it didn’t matter how many parties her husband attempted to throw or how many Counts he tried to butter up. There was only one, and it was not him. It was her. He knew this. She knew this. Everyone did, and playing the part of the good, perfect, respectable wife was beginning to wear the woman down in a way that was borderline dangerous, at that point. Men are technically allowed to rule sometimes, unfortunately. This was not one of those times.

“My dearest wife-“ her husband started, slurring his words slightly. She immediately cut him off by grasping his arm in a way that told him to stop talking, but also looked relatively loving to whoever was watching, “A word,” she was not asking, she was telling.

The brown haired woman, who had previously captured the Countess’s attention, watched as the couple walked, with their arms linked, towards a secluded part of their castle. She noticed how the black haired woman nodded curtly towards her guests as she walked past them, not wanting to be a poor host despite being displeased with her husband’s behaviour. Brown eyes took in the other woman’s.... figure as she walked away. A sight to behold, as she had initially guessed. Her dress hugged all her curves in the most mouthwatering way. It was almost too difficult for one to tear their eyes from her.

In the meantime, the party was simply not the same when she was absent. Like an ever-present energy, not a soul in that room could look at the Countess and mistake her for a person who could go unnoticed. Even if she wasn’t in the room physically, everything had her name written all over it. It was hers. It was all hers.

——

Several moments passed before the Countess and her husband decided to grace the party with their presence once more, still, the brunette immediately took note of it and watched as the other woman navigated the room confidently to greet some of her other guests, never once breaking into a full smile, however. Maybe they just hadn’t earned it.

If she wanted to greet her and leave a lasting impression, before having to leave the party, it had to be now.

——

“— they are positively dreadful. I cannot bear the sight of them. The man calls himself a painter yet cannot seem to find within himself the ability to paint properly!” a man loudly said, some of the guests laughing along with him. Others at him. Alcina’s facial expression, on the other hand, remained completely neutral with no signs of her cracking a smile anytime soon. The man noticed and, unfortunately for him, made an attempt to mansplain art to the Lady of the House. The group fell silent, uncomfortably so, as the man waited on Alcina to grace him with a response. It did not seem like he was getting one.

“You are out of your depth, Constantin,” Alcina immediately recognised the lilting voice, looked over her left shoulder and towards the sound. It was her. The phrase was voiced with a hint of playfulness so as to not humiliate the man any further, “Our host knows more about the wonders of the arts than you ever will.” She was standing directly beside Alcina now, yet seemingly refused to meet her gaze, choosing not to break eye contact with the man who dared question the Lady’s knowledge instead.

“In fact,” she inhaled through her nose, pursed her lips - allowing a hint of contempt to escape her for a fleeting moment - and clasped her hands at her front, “I believe we are all uncultured, empty-headed people in comparison, no? Some more than others”, she gave the man a pointed look, making the people around her chuckle in consensual agreement. That’s when she finally turned her head to face the other woman, whose gaze had been boring holes into her head as soon as she had decided to stand beside her. That’s when the brunette noticed that no one else was near the Countess, but all directly in front of her. It was as if she had stepped onto the woman’s stage. The realisation made her bow her head humbly before turning her body to fully face her, “I don’t believe we’ve met, my Countess”, she extended her hand, “Angela Drăculea, I have been meaning to make your acquaintance for awhile, now”.

This time, her smile had reached her eyes, which were now half-lidded. The laugh lines that formed charmingly around them only seemed to become more noticeable once Alcina took her hand in her own and hummed in acknowledgement, “I don’t believe our husbands have met”, she stated matter of factly.

“I beg your pardon?” the other woman said. They were still holding each other’s hands, the feeling sending shivers down Angela’s spine - she even seemed to draw nearer when the Countess spoke, which did not go unnoticed. Like a sailor being charmed by a siren, completely unaware of the perils surrounding such action. Alcina’s gaze refused to leave her own. It soon became intoxicating.

“He would have introduced us by now,” her calming voice said, before finally dropping the other woman’s hand, “Unless you come here uninvited and are a trespasser,” once again, it was not posed as an inquiry, it was as if she was throwing statements at the other woman, gauging her reaction to them.

The brunette squinted her eyes without dropping her endearing smile, “Our husbands have not met, no.” she squared her shoulders, then, and allowed her gaze to drift downwards, towards the Countess’s necklace, though she doubted that that’s what the other woman was really looking at, “I am afraid I have no husband to introduce in the first place,” she playfully said, giving her a knowing smile and looking into her eyes once more. Angela was good at matching other people’s energy. If they teased, she would tease back. If they taunted, she would follow. If they threatened...

A hint of a smile ghosted Alcina’s lips, “Is that so?”

The atmosphere changed around them almost immediately. Some of the guests even squirmed uncomfortably whilst watching the verbal exchange unfold. It was not a normal conversation by any means. The brunette seemed to be speaking to the Countess for a particular reason. Alcina, on the other hand, was testing her. Watching her. Studying her, in a way that was not totally uncomfortable but also let the other woman know that she was not to be taken for a fool. Even so, their audience didn’t seem to bother this so-called ‘Angela’, Alcina noted. If anything, it only seemed to encourage her. Interesting, she thought.

The woman gave a smile, that was absolutely sinful, and bit down on her bottom lip for a split second. The woman opened her mouth to say something before placing her, now empty, goblet of wine on a round, silver platter one of the servants, who walked past her, was holding, “Indeed,”

“Rather unusual, wouldn’t you say?”, her tone lost all signs of amusement, then, and her expression turned almost sour. The sudden change of heart caught the brunette off guard, but unfortunately to Alcina, she was quick-witted and would not back down easily.

“Some would say so, yes,” her chin tilted upwards almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t stand taller than the other woman even if she tried, however. They were about the same height, Angela was slightly shorter, but the way the Lady of the House carried herself made her look taller than any other person in that room, almost incomprehensibly so, “Some would even go as far as to question my womanhood. Be that as it may... it is not how I see it.”

Alcina’s nostrils flared for a brief second, she had a feeling that the woman before her was about to cross a line that should never be crossed. Not with her. It was as if she was pushing all her buttons just to see if she could. A mistake. Nevertheless, she pressed on, “How do you see it?”, she glowered, daring her to speak her mind.

Angela didn’t look the tiniest bit regretful. It drove Alcina mad. She was a lady, therefore making a scene was absolutely out of the question, but Gods be damned, if the woman in front of her didn’t stay in line—

“Complete and utter freedom.” she cooed. The last thing Alcina expected was for the woman to bend at the waist, then, seemingly choosing to remove herself from the conversation now before it ended poorly, and moved to hold the Countess’s hand in her own once more. She paused, allowing Alcina to remove her hand from her grasp. When that didn’t come, she looked up from under her lashes, not moving from the position she was in, and placed a deliberate kiss on her hand, feeling it tense up under her touch.

Once they stood at eye level, the first thing Angela observed was the Lady’s facial expression. First, her eyes flashed dangerously. Then, her jaw clenched. But then, and much to the brunettes dismay, Alcina’s face went blank. All terrible signs, when one is making an attempt at courtship, really. No matter though, because the last thing Angela noticed before finally moving away from the Countess were her eyes. One’s body always betrays them, it would seem, for the woman’s pupils were blown and only one word was written all over her face. Desire.

“In another life, perhaps?” was all the infuriating woman said, a soft smile on her face, before finally moving away, turning her back on the Lady and disappearing into the crowd. She left just as the Countess’s husband decided to join in on the conversation he had just missed. Whatever it was that he said, it earned him a hissed out reply from his wife.

———————————————

“My decision is final, there will be no argument. Remember from whence you came,” was all the priestess had to say for the room to settle down, “Unless any of you provide me with a reason as to why our plan should change, I advise you all spare me your childish, petty squabbles”. Her voice was cold and left no room for disagreement. Heisenberg looked at his sister, his chest puffed and a ridiculously smug grin on his face. There was nothing more she wanted to do at that moment than wipe it off his face. With his hammer, perhaps.

He had always been an irksome man, yet became even more so after his transformation. Alcina was thankful for the fact that she did not have to deal with his presence on a daily basis. He was like an annoying smell you simply could not get rid of and having to deal with familial issues even after your death felt like a poor joke. He did not respect her. She would have to change that.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” he patronisingly said, bowing to his sister mockingly, “you will not be disappointed”. There was his wolffish grin again. Alcina tsked and moved to stand behind her seat once more. Losing Ethan Winters did not irritate her too much - she did not care for the man nor for his safety - the fact that she was losing him to her brother, of all people, however... Now, that was a different story. It seemed that, even in death, men attempted to reach for things that were not theirs to claim. She knew her brother. His irresponsible nature would end up getting the best of him and she would have to clean up his mess. That’s how it always went. She and her daughters would’ve killed the mortal so much quicker.

He turned to face the man in shackles then, opened his arms wide and began, loudly, “Lycans and gentlemen, we thank you for waiting! And, now, let the games beg—“

He would have finished his speech if he had not been rudely interrupted by the sound of the doors, leading to the old, dilapidated chapel, slamming against the walls, a woman standing on the threshold. She was wearing all black garments, which were softly swaying in the cold, winter breeze, her face fully shadowed and hidden both by her hood and some kind of plain, black material covering the lower half of her face. Not a single hint of skin in sight. Her ensamble was not poor or dirty in the slightest. It was perhaps a bit hard on the eyes, but one could tell it was carefully handpicked by its wearer. Clothes do make others perceive you differently, after all. Whatever it was that she was trying to achieve by dressing in such fashion, it seemed that she had succeeded.

Her posture was straight and one of her, gloved, hands was holding on to some kind of satchel. Everyone in the room was surprised by the sudden interruption, including the mortal, who was now making pathetic attempts to uncomfortably turn and face whatever new threat he would have to deal with later. Everyone looked as if the woman was trespassing. Everyone but the priestess.

“You have decided to join us after all, I see,” her tone was far from welcoming. It almost sounded as if she was reprimanding the woman, not just for interrupting their meeting, but for showing up at all, “Do you come bearing news?”, once again, her tone was flat, giving away the impression of utter disinterest and boredom.

Heisenberg was leaning against his hammer and pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand, probably wondering when he was going to be allowed to play with his food. Alcina, on the other hand, was watching this woman, who had not yet made a sound, carefully. It was almost like they had been interrupted by a ghost. A ghost they were not meant to see. She took the other woman in once more, noticing how she was, surprisingly, not as short as the others around her. Still not as tall as the Countess, but definitely much taller than her brother, for instance. How interesting.

“My suspicions were correct,” that voice.... where could she have heard it before? Lady Dimitrescu stood taller then, her eyes widening for a split second and her lips forming a thin line before she could keep her facial expressions under check. It could not be, could it? After all those years?

“You took your precious time,” Miranda critiqued, “what have you learned?”, the room was dead silent, save for a few lycans who were growling lowly at the new guest. All eyes were set on this newcomer, which, interestingly enough, seemed to upset her. Her hand had left her satchel and was now gripping her black cloak, as if she was trying to wrap it around herself even tighter. Only one other person in the room kept most of her body covered - Donna, the head of House Benenviento, but even she was a poor example. One woman was a... grieving daughter, the other was not.

“Our enemy, our true enemy, is one Chris Redfield. He plans to strike from the shadows once we are all too exhausted to retaliate.” Her voice was being somewhat muffled by the material covering her face, but it was clear enough that no one needed to listen closely to understand what she was saying. Even if she looked utterly uncomfortable, her posture did not give that away at all. She stood tall. Proud. She did not cower or shift closer to the shadows, no matter how badly she wanted to. In all honesty, it was not a poor effort, but there was one person who could see right through her.

“And you know this how, exactly?” Heisenberg drawled. Moving away from his hammer and sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose just to take a better look at the woman.

“He is here. In your village. Roaming around your property. Studying you. Something that is only happening because you were much too busy hunting down this stupid, useless man for sport,” the woman snapped, yet kept the volume of her voice relatively low and her tone neutral, clearly not entertained by the man’s behaviour. Her eyes gave out this orange glow with a red tint to it - they flashed whenever Heisenberg tried to address her. Some curses become a blessing though, because the man’s infuriating demeanour made the woman let go of her cloak, her posture straightening once more, but not out of discomfort this time.

“Careful, Angela,” the priestess warned, cutting their argument short, “know your place.” it was posed as a warning, not a threat, but, frankly, Angela had been roaming the Earth for far too long, now, and standing down was not something she was inclined to do. Ever.

“With all due respect, my Priestess, my place is something I am excruciating and painfully aware of.” Angela spat out, her tone making Alcina’s lips curl upwards in acknowledgement for a brief moment. That did sound like the woman she had met on that dreadful party all those years ago. Though she was, obviously, not the same as she once was... in more ways than one.

The room fell silent for the umpteenth time that day and remained that way for a few, uncomfortable seconds. Angela’s chest rose and fell steadily, her eyes never leaving the priestess’s. The awkward, tense moment was broken when the House Beneviento puppet, Angie, coughed once, followed by a small, meek “.... sorry...”. This was going to be a long day.

“I just want my daughter—“ general grumbles of annoyance and a loud ‘shut the fuck up’ came from the people around him. Well. Maybe that would have to come later.

“You cannot be suggesting we let this man go?” the word was practically spat out, which was definitely in character for Lady Dimitrescu, “For once, I agree with my sister,” was what Heisenberg said, earning him a disgusted look from the Countess.

“Maybe I have not made myself clear,” Angela turned to face Alcina for the first time in literal centuries, then. The taller woman wished she could see her face, her fingers twitched momentarily at the thought. Still, she refused to let any kind of emotion seep through her mask, opting to pretend to be completely unfazed by their conversation instead.

The other woman did not seem particularly glad to see her, which sent an uncomfortable feeling through the lady vampire’s chest. This kind of behaviour was not to be rewarded.

.... Surely she had not forgotten her?

“I suggest we move our efforts towards a more fruitful endeavour, such as doing away with the man who wants to eradicate us. It is entirely up to you, however,” her eyes scanned the taller woman’s face. Looking at her eyes, her hair, the laugh lines around her mouth and, then, settling on her lips before looking away entirely.

It was strange, seeing her like this. Her fiery personality was, of course, still there, but before the Countess stood a woman who was merely a shell of who she used to be. She had often thought about the woman who had boldly courted her for all to see. Wondered if she had lived a full life. Happy and free, as she was. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She looked utterly miserable now, which was a clear indication of just how consensual the experiments that were inflicted upon her were. There they stood. What had once separated them centuries ago seemed to separate them now. One was still a caged animal, struggling to get free.

A pang of something hit Alcina’s chest. That was definitely not a feeling she welcomed with open arms. Some things are meant to be secured under lock and key. Never to be brought up, not once. This was one of those things.

The woman bowed her head slightly, a sign of respect towards the Countess. Having seen that, Heisenberg made a disgusted sound, immediately destroying whatever moment they were about to have.

“Fine. If this one goes, I want the other one,” he turned towards Miranda, “It is only fair,” the smug smile returning to his face.

The Houses argued amongst each other whilst Angela stood on the sidelines watching it all unfold. The dynamic between them seemed about what you’d expect from a bunch of dysfunctional monsters whose Mother was hellbent on calling them a family, though it was borderline comical most of the time. Angela pursed her lips and looked away from the scene with disinterest, her gaze landing on the mortal, instead. Funnily enough, he looked more confused than frightened, which almost made the woman’s lips curl up in amusement. His expression was understandable.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Alcina threw a particularly petty insult at her brother, her eyes flashing dangerously and her booming voice carrying throughout the entire building. Even after centuries having passed, she remained the most strikingly powerful and beautiful woman Angela had ever seen. She took her time observing her then - the way the veins on her neck became more noticeable when she began raising her voice; the way her nose scrunched up in disgust whenever her brother tried to speak to her; the way she scoffed and waved her hand at him dismissively whenever he made another stupid comment. Even so, she remained positively regal throughout the entire verbal exchange. Angela wished for nothing more than to be a painter, at that exact moment, so she could immortalise the Countess as she saw her. Gazing upon her this freely almost felt like a privilege.

If only she could go back in time, she would have taken her away from that blasted party and her stupid husband and kept her all to herself, though she doubts the Countess would have let her.

Sighing in relief when Miranda put an end to their fighting for the second time that morning, Angela awaited her orders. She could spend the rest of her days admiring the taller woman, the screaming, on the other hand, was beginning to wear her down. That was when the priestess finally made her decision. Ethan Winters was no longer a priority, though he should not be allowed to leave the village as of yet. This earned her several shouts of protest from the man, who ended up being taken away by two of Miranda’s helpers.

“Do not stray from the village, Angela. I need you here,” Miranda commanded, “Alcina, take her with you. You are to await further instructions,” her wings fluttered as she spoke. Her demeanour calm, as always.

Heisenberg’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Angela interjected, “Very well. I will find my own way to the Castle,” and with that, she abruptly turned and walked confidently towards the exit. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The amount of eyes on her were making her skin crawl.

“She’s going to walk there?”, Heisenberg scrutinised, glaring at the woman as she left. His sister didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he had said, seemingly lost in thought, which was definitely uncharacteristic of her.

“Heisenberg...,” the priestess warned. The conversation was over.

Having realised his mistake, he raised his hands up in defeat, though his eyebrows were still snapped together, either in confusion or irritation.

——-

Angela could technically use her powers to get to the Castle in the blink of an eye, yet saw fit to do the exact opposite of that. Call it stubbornness or whatever else you wish - she saw her powers as entirely unnatural. Animalistic, even. There was not one thing about her transformation that she had come to terms with over the decades. There was no encore, there was no sense of accomplishment. It didn’t make her feel more powerful. No, there was only blood, sweat and tears. That’s all there ever was. No need to romanticise it. You couldn’t, even if you tried.

She looked up, trying to take in the Castle in all its glory. She wondered what the Countess had done to her husband once she was turned, the thought making her purse her lips in amusement. She didn’t seem particularly fond of the man, so her best guess was that he died an excruciating death. Whether or not he deserved it was not up to her to decide. She got exactly what she wanted, in the end. She was officially the Head of the House, no man holding her back and keeping her from achieving her fullest potential. Good. She deserved it. She deserved all of it.

Yet... facing her now, after all that had transpired? Gods forgive her. She didn’t know if she could take it.

She walked steadily towards the main entrance, her fist hovering over the flat surface of the door before finally giving it three, strong knocks. The doors were opened by two, frail looking maids who immediately stepped to the side to let her in. Choosing not to give it much thought, Angela walked through the threshold and looked around. It all looked exactly the same. A pang of nostalgia and sadness hit the woman’s chest, but her reverie was broken when the sound of two loudly beating hearts overcame her senses. Her head turned slowly towards the two maids. Their chests were rising and falling rapidly, meaning they definitely saw her as a threat - she didn’t blame them, all they could see were her eyes, and they were not really welcoming, either. Her gaze traveled along the women’s faces yet settled on their necks as soon and she noticed how they had both been... branded. The bite marks were small, so they were not given to them by the Countess. How intriguing.

“Lady Drăculea,” Ugh, “so nice of you to finally join us,” he sauntered towards her, his hammer resting on his right shoulder, “how was your morning stroll? Not too many corpses on the way, I hope”, he grinned. There were... a lot of corpses, actually. It made her stomach turn, but she would never tell him this, regardless of whether or not he was right. His ego was already too big for his own good.

“Why do you pester me,” she asked, her tone flat and her mouth twitching downwards when she realised he planned on annoying her even further. Thank goodness her face was covered, that way he had absolutely no way of knowing if he was getting under her skin.

He gave out a mocking smile and pressed on even further, “You know, I have just been made aware of the most interesting piece of information,” he toyed with the handle of his hammer and eyed the woman up and down, sizing her up. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Angela clenched her jaw, her mouth set in a hard line. She moved to the side in an attempt to walk past him, but he would not let her - sidestepping in front of her whenever she tried to leave.

“This isn’t your first time in the Castle. You came here once long before you were turned into one of us,” he stated matter of factly. He turned to the side, then, and used his free hand to wave it around, never letting go of his hammer, “this must really take you back. Say,” he moved closer then, his voice barely a whisper, “on a scale of one to ten, how awful was my sister?” there was his stupid grin again. Angela didn’t have the faintest clue as to how he came to know of her past - Alcina certainly had not told him, so that leaves.... who, exactly?

She heard the distinct sound of heels clicking on marble in the distance before finally deciding to give the Countess’s brother a reply, “I remember being bothered by a pesky, little man that evening and I can certainly relate to that now,” she said, curtly, “this feeling brings me back more than the haunting halls of this Castle ever could”, that was when a flash of white entered her peripheral vision. There stood the Lady of the House, in all her glorious beauty, at the top of the stairs. Her left, gloved hand resting on the railing, she seemed to be accessing the situation, trying to decide whether or not she would step in and get her brother in line. The two, poor maids were still standing on the very same spot, not being allowed to leave until the guest moves away from the front entrance and into the Castle. It was, overall, an incredibly uncomfortable situation.

Heisenberg stared at her blankly at first, but then his face broke into an almost predatory smile. He stepped closer to Angela, who refused to step back, “I am going to tell you this once and only once. Do not test me any further. I am not as patient as the Priestess, dog,” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. It looked as if she had grown ten inches taller. Maybe she had. It certainly felt like she had. Heisenberg’s grip on his hammer tightened at the final word the woman spat out, the air around them almost crackling from all the tension. Funny how she was several inches taller than him and yet the man was still brave, or bold... stupid enough to irk her. She half hoped he would keep going - she needed to release some pent up anger anyway. Heisenberg’s posture stiffened.

Having had enough of the display of ego measuring, the Countess decided to interrupt their special moment before they ruined her day even further, “That’s enough,” she said, her voice had an edge to it. She was obviously not pleased with their behaviour - they were both just guests in her Castle, after all. She continued then, her voice much more neutral this time around, “Your chambers are this way,” she was speaking to the woman, yet her eyes were trained on her brother. The Countess slowly extended a long arm towards one of the corridors to her right, her movements precise, and her left hand, still resting on the railing, gripped it tighter.

Angela took that as her queue to finally leave Heisenberg behind, glaring at him one last time before moving away from the door, which put the two maids out of their misery and allowed them to leave the spot they were stuck in moments ago, and going up the stairs. Alcina was still standing near the railing and still eyeing her brother, who now had turned to face the two women, craning his neck slightly to look up at them. Angela watched as the two siblings seemed to communicate telepathically. She didn’t fully understand it, but felt as if it was not something she wanted to insert herself into or interrupt.

Her brother grunted something under his breath before tipping his hat at his sister and finally walking out. She was asking — no, telling — him to stand down. He was on her turf, now. No one understands the implications of that better than a dog, Angela thought.

They were alone now and, for someone who was bold enough to flirt with a married Countess at a social gathering her husband hosted, Angela did not seem to be able to meet her gaze. The taller woman enjoyed seeing her squirm, apparently, because they remained silent for a few, long seconds before the brunette was forced to say something to break the ice, “I humbly thank you, my Countess, for your gracious hospitality. It has not gone unnoticed”. Maybe her boldness was not what it used to be, but her courteousness and charm were still very much intact, Alcina noted.

All that came from Alcina was a soft hum. She stood there, accessing the woman before her. It was almost as if she was expecting something from her - Angela, being the chivalrous person that she was, knew exactly what was missing, but chose to ignore it for the time being, “That way, yes?”, she looked down the corridor Alcina had previously extended her arm towards. She secretly hoped she could simply go looking for the room herself. Standing near the Countess was torture - in the best way possible, of course.

“Indeed,” came the sharp response. She was not pleased with Angela’s choices leading up to this moment. The Lady’s lips curled downwards, something the other woman missed, since she was not even looking at her to begin with. A mistake.

Not one more word was said before the raven haired woman turned and began taking long strides towards her guest’s assigned chambers. Angela followed. She always would.

Clenching her fists to keep herself from drifting her eyes downwards and along the Countess’s frame, arriving to her guest room came as a distraction and was therefore a god given gift. Someone please. Put her out of her misery.

She watched as Alcina opened the, now ridiculously small, door, bending over at the waist to enter the room. Angela had to do the same, only she did not bend as low as her host. The room was elegantly decorated, as was expected, and surprisingly clean. She wondered just how many maids Alcina actually had and how long it would take scrape the floors clean, let alone dust each and every room off. She was glad she was not in their shoes, to say the very least.

“I won’t be needing that,” Angela said, flatly.

She could sense the taller woman’s rising anger, but her statement left the Countess confused enough that she ended up allowing the brunette to keep her head, “A mirror,” Alcina deadpanned. It was posed as a question, but when Angela turned her head to look the woman in the eyes, all she saw was utter disinterest.

“Yes. I would rather not,” she clasped her hands at her front and looked around the room. She should really stop doing that. The way she refused to meet Alcina’s eyes when she spoke to her was beginning to anger her. She could tell.

“The tone you have been carrying thus far is extremely ill-advised. You are a guest in my Castle. Do not make me remind you again,” her voice was as cold as steel, yet the Lady of the House seemed to show leniency for the second time that morning. If Angela were someone else, her head would probably be on a spike in the Castle grounds. Still, abusing her luck any further would be unwise.

The shorter woman’s pulse quickened and she bit on the insides of her cheek to keep herself grounded. Turning to fully face the Lady once more, she began removing the garments that were covering her face. First her hood and then her black mask, letting it settle around her neck, instead.

Alcina’s eyes seemed to immediately absorb the newly exposed features, her gaze scanning her face shamelessly before falling squarely on her lips and on a scar on the left side of her upper lip, which was new to her. Her hair also looked different. Gone was the intricate hairstyle with braids - taking its place was a loose bun. Alcina’s eyes were, once again, the only thing that betrayed her emotions and cracked her mask, for everything else in the woman, from her face down to her posture, was absolutely still and unreadable. Angela was aware of the fact that she looked older. Pale. The agony she felt over the decades written all over her face.

She did not bother to decipher how Alcina saw her now, it was ultimately pointless and she doubted the Countess cared that much about whatever it was that she thought she saw in her. It had been years since the smaller woman had looked at herself in a mirror - she refused to do it ever since her transformation, in fact, which explained her aversion towards them now.

“Forgive me, offending you was not my intention. It never will be,” her eyes were tired, yet she did not break eye contact with the woman this time, “it was poor of me,” she was visibly choosing her words in the most careful way possible, “I simply need to cover it, is all,” she hoped that her choice of words did not anger her host this time around. She awaited her response

...

“Do as you must,” and with that, the Lady left.

Angela sighed to herself and began looking for spare sheets so she could cover the blasted thing and not have to look at it any longer. Thankfully, no one was there to see her as she struggled to place the sheets over the mirror - not wanting to look at herself as she did it made the affair ten times harder. It almost made her laugh, in fact. It was too ridiculous. A low chuckle resonated throughout the room all of the sudden. It... didn’t come from her. Turning slowly, she was met with a pair of bright, yellow eyes, lurking in the shadows.

“It would be easier if you turned them to the side and tucked them behind it,” the young woman said, nodding her head towards the sheets Angela was holding. The brunette stared at her for a few seconds before looking down and taking her advice, turning the sheets, placing them over the mirror - though she turned her face to not look at her reflection - and, after a couple of attempts, managing to tuck them behind the damned thing. Finally.

“Well, would you look at that,” Angela mused.

“That took you way longer than it should have,” the faceless woman deadpanned.

That seemed to catch Angela off guard and she snorted, against her better judgment, before clearing her throat and facing the pair of eyes once more, “I don’t think we’ve met. Angela D—“, she thought about extending a hand to greet the mysterious figure in the shadows, but was interrupted before she could even finish saying her name.

“I know who you are,” she teased, “Mother has told us all we need to know about you,” she continued. That made Angela’s posture straighten. Us? Mother?

“I seem to be at a disadvantage, then. The Countess has not told me your name,” Angela countered. She didn’t feel threatened by the girl, still, she seemed clever. And nothing good can come out of Alcina’s children, surely.

The mystery girl left the shadows then and, curiously enough, she did not seem to resemble Alcina at all, yet the way she carried herself did remind her of the Countess. Her calm, yet reserved demeanour almost too close to her mother’s.

“Bela,” she told the taller woman, her face blank.

“It is an honour to meet one of the Countess’s daughters,” she bowed her head slightly at the girl.

“Mother spoke of you often,” the girl told her, apparently seeming to be more inclined towards skipping the pleasantries, “though I must warn you, do not upset her,” monotoned the daughter, “my sisters and I are not kind to those who do.”

Angela didn’t take it as a threat, though she knew she probably should. Part of her was glad Alcina had such devoted daughters. The other half was amused at the child’s boldness.

“I understand,” she told her, wanting to reassure her. Upsetting the Lady of the House was definitely not on Angela’s list of things to do, yet she didn’t want her daughters to think that she, a guest, planned on harming their mother. Gods forbid.

“Good,” Bela finished. As soon as the word was out of her mouth she all but dissipated in front of Angela’s eyes, leaving in her wake a cloud of small insects who disappeared through the cracks in the walls and left the room. Were the cracks there to allow them to traverse the Castle faster...? Angela stood there for a second, trying to understand what had just happened before giving up and shaking her head slightly. Hopefully this day was done with throwing things at her and actually allowed her to finally rest before being summoned by Miranda.

She was out of luck, it seemed. The nights were always so much harder on her for no apparent reason. At least not one that she was aware of. Before she tried to go to bed and call it a day, she had to ask Alcina for.... a bigger nightdress. It was utterly embarrassing, but thankfully the Countess was kind enough to not make any comments. The maids then gave her a silk nightgown - it didn’t fit her particularly well since the Lady was still taller than her, but it was better than wearing nothing at all.

She was in bed and staring at the ceiling, her fingers intertwined and her hands resting on her chest. She was tired, but knew that having a good nights sleep was not something that would happen any time soon. Even if she did manage to rest her eyes for a couple of hours, the nightmares would certainly wake her up. She longed for the nights, before her transformation, when she simply had to shut her eyes to fall asleep for as long as she wished. Now she didn’t need to sleep as much, true, but the nightmares proved themselves to be much more than a nuisance. They plagued her almost every night. It frustrated the woman beyond words.

Choosing to do something else with her “free” time, she got up, put her, or Alcina’s, slippers on, which were also not the right size for her, and left her room. The Castle was not as cold as it appeared to be, for whatever reason, so discomfort was not something she had to deal with as she explored the halls of a Castle she had already been in... in another life. Something caught her eye, then, as she roamed around, taking everything in. A piano. An expensive looking one, at that. She drew nearer to take a closer look, running her hands over the keys without pressing too hard on them so as to not make any sound. It was clean. Not a speck of dust on it. Those poor maids.

She felt a pair of eyes on her again, but the way the energy in the room shifted dramatically told her this wasn’t one of the daughters.

“Do you play?” Angela asked softly, her fingers still running over the surface of the piano. She heard a low hum first - the actual reply came a few seconds later.

“Yes, though it’s been centuries since I last indulged in it,” said the Countess, her tone was almost matching the other woman’s. It wasn’t soft per se, but it was softer than usual.

“Ah,” Angela let out a bitter, halfhearted chuckle, “the mundane getting left behind once more, yes?”, she rested her hand on top of the piano and turned her head slightly, awaiting the other woman’s response but still not looking at her.

“You speak of the past most fondly,” Alcina’s tone indicated that she disapproved of such notion, though she was clearly trying to not flat out say it. The comment made Angela’s expression close up immediately and she moved to stand next to a big window, trying to distract herself from the unpleasant thoughts creeping up on her. Ah. The moon and her were well acquainted by now.

“If I could go back in time, I would.” she retorted. That was all she wanted to say on the matter, though she doubted the conversation would end there.

Alcina was still watching her from the shadows, her gaze trained on her. The scenario reminded Angela of a sinner confessing the unspeakable to a priest. Funny how the Countess was the priest in that situation. The thought had Angela biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. The amusement quickly dissipated from her mind, however, as it often did.

“I have.... regrets. Nothing has meaning now,” the woman confessed, she crossed her arms at her midriff then, her nails digging into her biceps.

“If you feel as if there may not be meaning, then find one and seize it,” the reply was not meant to sting, but it did nonetheless. Of course she would say that. Why wouldn’t she?

“It is easier said than done,” Angela said bitterly. The conversation was beginning to turn sour.

She heard the Lady tsk and then felt her getting closer, her steps almost soundless. She doesn’t hear the telltale clicking of her heels, so she must not be wearing them, “Excuses, excuses,” she was standing right next to her now, though she wasn’t facing the shorter woman. They were both looking out. Facing the moon. Angela found it preferable, that way. Stripping herself of all her walls in front of the Countess was easier if she did not have to stare into her eyes. The shadows served as her shield. The dark making her feel at home.

They stayed in comfortable silence for awhile before Angela broke it “I still feel it,” she had an almost pained expression, her voice no more than a whisper, “withering away, like a dying ember, and rotting inside me,”

That made Alcina turn her head to face her, waiting for her to continue. She watched as the woman’s arms dropped, only for her to begin pinching the area between her index finger and thumb with her other hand. It looked painful.

“My humanity,” Silence. Her jaw clenched and her bottom lip trembled for a brief second, not out of sadness but anger, “she took everything from me” she sneered.

“Mother Miranda only does what is best for us,” Angela wanted to interrupt her before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, but thought better of it. She pinched her hand harder. Alcina noticed.

“Do not say that. It might be what you tell yourself, but do not say it to me. Please.” Her face twisted in both anger and frustration. She was trying her damnedest not to snap at the Countess.

“The world could fit in your hands now. Seeing that as a curse and not a blessing is completely unfathomable,” Alcina coldly said. It was almost as if she was daring the shorter woman to test her patience once more.

“To you,”

“To me, and everyone else,”

Angela knew she could not make the other woman listen. Alcina had everything she had ever wanted - her transformation opened doors for her that would otherwise remain closed. Angela could understand that and was glad that the Lady of the House belonged to no one but herself. Still, that’s not how she saw it. Angela was taken, against her will, and experimented on by a woman whose only goal was to take what made Angela herself, turning her into one those.... things. And for what? What purpose did that serve her? They were all failed experiments. The rejects wrapped around her finger, some more than others. It was hell. How could Alcina not see that?

The point was, Alcina would never understand what she felt. Angela didn’t even fully understand it herself, to be quite honest. All she knew was she was not living. She wouldn’t wish what she was going through on her worst enemy.

Knowing that debating the Countess was a pointless resistance for her, she simply turned to walk away, wanting to put some distance between them. She was so incredibly tired...

... and she would have left, if the other woman hadn’t grabbed her wrist with inhuman speed. Being forced to turn her entire body and face the Countess, she tried to pull her wrist back, which she failed to do. Alcina was unsurprisingly strong and her grip unrelenting. The amount of force she used caused Angela to stumble forward a bit and into her - they were practically breathing the same air now, though the shorter woman had to crane her head upwards to actually lock eyes with the Countess. Her height allowed her to be at eye level with Alcina’s collarbone, but no more than that. It didn’t bother her too much.... no reason behind it.

“Do not turn your back on me,” the Countess warned, a scowl painting her face.

Even in this moment she looked absolutely magnificent, making Angela’s heart squeeze almost painfully in her chest for the first time in years. It dawned on her then, that the Countess was out of her normal attire - she wore a silken nightgown, much like her own, only hers actually fit her, and a sheer, black robe with a floral pattern; her hat was also missing. Closing her eyes to keep her gaze from wandering lower, all she could feel was the woman’s cold, yet impossibly soft, hand wrapped around her wrist.

She knew the tips of her ears would’ve turned pink by now, if they could. Thinking about it only made it worse. Her chest was heaving, her heart hammering in her chest, and their breaths mingled. Angela gulped slightly before opening her eyes again. She desperately wished to caress the other woman’s face, right about now - the light provided by the moon highlighted her features in the most beautiful of ways. She was utterly and completely under the Countess’s spell.

Alcina was still holding on to her wrist and using the same amount of force. Angela’s hand was trapped in between their bodies, if the Countess were to let go of her.... Well.

There was a scowl on her face no longer and she seemed to be struggling to keep her facial expressions under control. Her eyes dropped to Angela’s, now parted, lips, particularly on her scar, causing her own lips to twitch. The brunette noticed and was overtook by longing almost immediately. She needed to get away from the other woman, though she didn’t know how and every second that went by made it harder for her to tell Alcina to unhand her. Maybe she didn’t need to get away. Maybe what she needed was to draw even closer.

She could smell something floral - the other woman’s perfume? Maybe to honor the crest of House Dimitrescu? She could smell the Countess’s perfume, so, yes, they were that close.

Choosing to blame it on how intoxicating the woman’s scent was, Angela’s right hand, the one that was free, slowly moved upwards and towards the taller woman’s face, her fingers ghosting over it, not daring to touch just yet. She was silently asking for the Countess’s consent - she knew she should’ve verbalised it, but all her senses were malfunctioning. All she could see was her. All she knew was Her.

Alcina did not object, though her jaw clenched for a brief second. Angela suspected it was not due to anger, so she took it as her confirmation.

Initially, her touch resembled that of a feather - she feared that if she moved too quickly she would lose the woman just as fast. So far, so good. She ran the pads of her index and middle fingers over the Countess’s cheekbones, her eyes tracing the movement. Then, she ran the tips of her fingers over her nose, her brow; memorising every feature. Her pupils dilated when she traced them over the woman’s lips, which were now bare and without any lipstick. She wondered if she was taking more than she should, but her worries floated away when she heard the taller woman’s breath quicken before she was able to control it once more.

Feeling emboldened, Angela cupped the right side of her face. Alcina was no longer forcefully grabbing her wrist, but gently holding it. The brunette’s hand then fell to the right side of her neck, sliding down to settle on the top of her breast and near her heart.

And there they stayed for awhile. The moon their only witness. If this was a dream, Angela would kill whoever dared to wake her up. It didn’t seem like a dream, though, because what the other woman said next was vocalised much too clearly.

“You have haunted me for years,” she professed, her brow furrowed - she was clearly struggling to come to terms with whatever it was that she was currently feeling. Angela didn’t blame her.

“Good,” it was said absentmindedly, though there was honesty behind it.

Alcina’s chin turned upwards. She seemed... determined, maybe? Or was it something else? Angela was distracted.

Oh, it was definitely determination, for the Countess’s hand, the one that was holding Angela’s wrist, snaked around the shorter woman’s neck and pulled her towards her for their lips to meet.

Angela’s eyes all but bulged out of her head at first, but she quickly regained her senses. She was not a shy lover and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this specific moment several times throughout the years - she was not going to blow it now. Grabbing a fistful of Alcina’s robe and nightgown, she parted her lips, allowing the other woman to deepen the kiss further. They fit together perfectly - it was as if Angela had finally found the missing piece to her jigsaw puzzle. They had finally come full circle. This is what they should’ve done the first time they met. They both knew this. This was a second chance they were not going to miss.

Turns out the Countess was an excellent kisser, not that it was of any surprise. She did have centuries to practice, after all, but it still made Angela’s heart flutter in her chest, the feeling settling on the pit of her stomach. Damn, that woman. The shorter woman inhaled through her nose sharply when Alcina’s hand, the one that was previously resting on her neck, moved upwards to grab a fistful of her hair - angling her head just so. Angela was more than happy to comply.

Suddenly, Alcina broke their kiss, her lips now pink, causing Angela to lick her own in anticipation. She wanted nothing more than to hear her name leave those lips. Would the Countess even allow herself to do such a thing? Her thoughts were interrupted when the taller woman wordlessly began freeing her hair from the bun it was in. Her eyes burned with lust, but her movements were slow and gentle - they told a different story.

When her hair cascaded down, Alcina’s lips upturned, making Angela’s twist into a smile. They gazed into each other’s eyes then. Alcina’s, in particular, revealing too much. They both knew this. It was too soon.

The tender moment was broken when the black haired woman took notice of how Angela’s nightgown, which was hers - the thought sending a wave of possessiveness through her chest - was beginning to slip off her shoulders. Something dawned on her face then, and she used her left hand to pull one of the sleeves down, fully exposing Angela’s shoulder to the night air. She shivered, which did not go unnoticed by the other woman - her nipples were practically tearing holes through the soft fabric of the nightgown. The Countess locked eyes with her then, and what she saw only confirmed what was about to happen.

Angela’s eyes wordlessly told her ‘Consume me’. And so she did.

———

It seemed that it was possible for Angela to sleep without being plagued by nightmares, after all. Maybe it was due to how exhausted she was. She chose not to overthink it, now was not the time.

“What’s that,” Heisenberg said, flatly, looking to start another argument for the third time that morning. It seemed that not even during breakfast did the man mind his business. It didn’t help how he was sitting directly in front of her, either. Why had Alcina arranged the seats like that?

Angela’s expression seemed to speak for her, because the man felt like he had to explain what he had meant by his question, “That,” he pointed with his fork, “on your neck,”. Ah. Well.

She can’t talk about how the Head of House Dimitrescu picked her up effortlessly, placed her on top of her grand piano and... pushed her over the edge. Several times. She most definitely cannot talk about how, even after not allowing Angela to catch her breath, the Countess picked her up bridal style - the brunette’s legs shaking too much for her to walk - and took her to her chambers to make the shorter woman sing her name again. Over and over again. She certainly will not mention how the woman branded her with her mouth, though never actually biting into the soft flesh, as she allowed Angela to come down from the heights, her fingers still inside her as she did it. No. She couldn’t say any of that.

The woman looked down at her plate to keep her composure before meeting the man’s prying gaze again, “I woke up with it,” she paused to chew her food, not daring to look at anyone else. Alcina was on her left - she could tell she was watching her - and her girls were on her right - also watching her, “Maybe I have began decomposing faster than expected,”. She heard one of the daughters snicker before being forced to keep it down after being kicked under the table - by Bela, she was guessing.

The reply didn’t seem to satisfy Heisenberg, but he choose not to pry, for he sensed that the truth would probably end up disgusting him.

Angela gave Alcina a sidelong glance then, noticing the way she was hiding how the edge of her lips were turning upwards behind her glass.

......

In another life, indeed.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x oc #(tagging it as x reader so it can reach a wider audience lmk if u want me to change it)#my writing #<3<3<3<3<3<3 #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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foli-vora · 4 years ago

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more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment.

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky�� @linkpk88 @afootnoteofhappiness @livilottie

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller x reader

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ablogthatishenceforthmine · 3 years ago

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What I liked and Didn’t like about 3x07

Liked

Kory and Kom Dynamic: I am really liking what they are doing with this. It is the most nuanced and emotional affecting stuff of the episode, and of the season. Of all the dynamics in this season, there’s is the one with the best development. I found Kom’s story to be really heartbreaking, and I completely buy that Kory would start to come around on her. I do think Kom is telling the truth. I think in these moments she is being sincere and doesn’t have a larger plan at play. If she does betray Kory, I think it will not be a planned things, but something that may come up in a moment. And I love seeing Kory reckon with her this season, and past mistakes that she is made. I found it incredibly touching that Kory owned up to not being there for Kom in the past, and says that she is going try to do better now, and give Kom a chance now. Her telling Kom to join the team and giving her her suit was just really touching and heartwarming, and most of all, it felt earned. Their relationship has a real arc to it, and i am excited to see where it goes to from here. I know a lot of people are disappointed that Kom isn’t really a villain (although she may yet be, we don’t know), and I get that. But I think I might like what they are doing with them now better. It’s more intimate and character driven. What I will say, what I am upset is Kory not having her own villain to face (if Kom in fact never becomes a villain). And I definitely feel that loss bc it would be great for Kory’s character to have a villain that is so personal to her, where the conflict between them would be the emotional drive of the main plot of the season. I don’t have much hope that they will do that in later seasons with another villain for Kory. But if they would do both, that would have definitely been the ideal for me.

Kory making mistakes: And big ones at that! We know that she made mistakes in the past with her sister, and it’s great to see her recognizing that and growing. It may come back to bite her, but I think giving Kom and a chance and trying now to be the sister that she never was is the right thing for Kory to do. Regardless of outcome, I think this is something Kory needed to do for her own growth and morality. I also like that she makes a huge, terrible, deadly mistake in this episode by bringing the mobster’s son to her. The scene where the mob lady killed her own son was shocking and upsetting. And Kory is partially responsible for his death. Which i’m glad for. She was the one who brought him here, even though he didn’t want to. And though Kory was nothing but honest with him, there was some element of manipulation to her convincing him to go to this mother. It’s important that characters make mistakes that have consequences, and i’m glad they are doing this with Kory. What happened was truly horrifying. I’m also glad we get to see Kory crossing the moral lines, first with working with the mob, and then killing the mob lady out of anger. These moments make her a richer, more well-written character.

Titans have a win!: The show needed the titans to have this victory. For 6 episodes, Red Hood and Crane have been one step ahead of the Titans, always meeting them. Stories need rises and falls, peaks and valleys. It needed the titans to have a victory to give the plot momentum and more dramatic tension. So this was great! Although I have no doubt that there

51% Idea: I also really liked the 51% idea and the show exploring morally complex situations, and having characters struggle to find where the line is. You can see this in Kom’s story, in Kory teaming up with the mob, and in Dick and Barbara using oracle.

Didn’t Like

Not seeing chaos in Gotham: We get told that Gotham is in chaos, but we don’t actually see it. We are told about the attacks, but don’t see them. This is a major problem in conveying the stakes. We know the titans are trying to stop Gotham from tearing itself apart, but we don’t actually see Gotham tearing itself apart. We are being told the stakes instead of feeling the,

Confusion about drug: Seeing gotham and the attacks would also help the effects of the drug more clear. We are told about the effects, but don’t really see them. I also have some questions about this drug. So it apparently turns normal people violent, where they can’t help but attacking other people. So are they completely out of control? Do they have any control over who they attack, or is it just whoever’s near? Is this the same version of the drug that Jason is on? Because he doesn’t seem out of control. Violent yes, but his violence is targeted. He doesn’t have the urge to just attack whoever is near him. He seems to have some control over his violent impulses. Is it the same for the others? Or is Jason’s drug different. This may get cleared up later, but I think it would have been better explained in this ep.

Exposition/procedural elements: A lot of time is spent this episode, and this season, just figuring things out. Figuring out locations of things, etc. But they are often figured out through such boring methods, such as computers, or going to a warehouse where nothing much happens. It’s very boring! Just too much time spent trying to learn info! Kory’s plot showed how to do this better, going to the mob is a more interesting awya to find out info than just looking it up in computer. It just feels like way to much energy and time is spent trying to figure out pieces of information, and not enough time spent on the titans taking action after learning information.

Dick and Barbara: Look I’m a dickkory shipper, so I was never gonna like Dickbabs. But man, I think there relationship is poorly written. I wasn’t even upset during the final scene where the kissed in the present day because I just found it so boring. The romance stuff between them feels awkward and forced. They have more of a friends chemistry than a romantic chemistry. So yeah, I just think the romance stuff between them is flat and boring. And their scenes are so repetitive! It’s just the same scene over and over and over again. They have a difference of opinion, they argue, Barbara tells Dick no or to go home, Dick doesn’t listen, and does whatever he wants to do anything, often behind Barbara’s back. Rinse and repeat. Over and over again. I thought that after 3x06, this would at least change. That we would see them work together better. But no, it’s still the same thing over and over again. It’ just really repetitive, and is getting tiring and boring. And their romance feels like it’s just going through the motions.

The writing of Barbara’s character: I like Barbara’s personality and she does have an internal life that the show cares about. The show explores her thoughts, feelings, issues, and point of view. Except the mechanism through which this is being explored is her relationship with Dick. She only just barely exists outside of him. She has her own drives and goals and baggage, but again it is only being conveyed through her relationship with Dick. She doesn’t interact with any of the other characters, except for that one scene with Kory. So much of her character revolves around Dick. It’s very disappointing. And I want more than anything for her to interact with and form bonds with the other titans. Even in this episode, when the team is celebrating together, she mostly converses with Dick in the few lines she has during that scene. Another problem I have with her character is that she is getting focus over some of the other characters. She is the third most prominent character this season (after Dick and then Kory). And it’s frustrating that this is the case when she is most likely a one-season character and there are long-lasting characters (Gar and Conner) that are getting shafted. Gar doesn’t have an arc (at least so far), and Conner’s arc is being minimized, only playing out in these a few, small moments per episode.

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autisticdindjarin · 3 years ago

Text

Sleep It Off

(AO3)

Summary: “You’re a kriffing mess,” Boba declared. Mando’s eyes opened again at that, all wide and teary, brow crumpled. Rating: T Pairings: Din Djarin x Boba Fett Warnings: Drunkeness, Vomiting Notes: For Bobadin Week 2021, Day 3- Protectiveness/Caretaking I ended up getting a new job and it's been exhausting so this isn't edited as well as I wanted it to be but. Heh. Better than nothing, yeah?

(Masterlist)

↪

Boba cursed under his breath as he eyed the tipsy Mandalorian, being held up halfway with his own feet, and halfway with Fennec’s help. He reached forwards immediately, taking the brunt of the weight from his partner.

“Where did you find him?” Boba shook his head, grimacing as Mando leaned into his hold. Fennec sighed, wiping her hands on the tops of her thighs, looking unimpressed with everything as usual.

“Cantina in Mos Eisley. Trading stories with some mechanic. Don’t know how much he’s had.”

“Helmet?” Boba asked, and Fennec handed it over. It was strange, seeing Mando without it most of the time now. The man seemed to be avoiding it, yet he took it everywhere, in hand.

Mando remained silent where he leaned against Boba, though one hand was strangely running across his shoulder, almost admiringly. Fennec looked between the two of them and shrugged.

“I’ll let you handle this one,” she said with a slight smile, and Boba didn’t have the time to respond before he was facing a closed door. He grumbled under his breath, then turned his attention to Mando.

The man was a sorry sight, one that tugged at heartstrings. Boba guided him gently to the bed, keeping Mando from falling over when he attempted to sit down. He plopped on the bed instead, feet flat on the floor and back flat on the mattress, arms sprawled out. His dark eyes were slightly unfocused, but they didn’t leave Boba’s form.

“I’m getting you some water,” Boba groused, shaking his head. He was startled when Mando’s hand clutched at his, the grip strong.

“No, I can’t …. Stay?”

Boba looked back at him. Mando’s bottom lip was jutted out, his eyes big and shining, looking like he was about to cry.

Fuck, but this was pathetic. Boba let out a huff, but was gentle when he extracted Mando’s hand from his wrist.

“I’ll be right back. You really need water, or you’re going to be cursing yourself out even more tomorrow. I’ll be right back,” he said again as a reminder. Mando seemed to consider it, then nodded, a curl of hair falling into his face. Boba hesitated before reaching over, brushing it back, and Force be damned, those pleading eyes were going to be the death of him if he kept looking.

So he turned away, intent on his task of finding water for the intoxicated Mandalorian awkwardly situated on his bed.

He was back within minutes, and was surprised that Mando hadn’t passed out on him; Instead he had sat up and crossed his legs underneath him, making a pretty picture where he was perched on the mattress. Boba raised a brow as he sat beside him, and handed him the glass, hoping but also kind of not hoping that he wouldn’t need assistance.

Mando gulped down the water too fast.

Boba cursed as it came back up immediately on his floor, barely getting his foot out of the way in time. The glass dropped onto the bed and Boba reached over, his hand cupping the back of Mando’s neck and holding him steady as he got sick all over Boba’s rug.

Boba didn’t care much for the rug anyway.

When he was done, Mando’s eyes met Boba’s. They were watery and red, dark bags beneath them, his skin clammy to the touch and ashen. Boba sighed, running his hand over Mando’s forehead. Mando made a strange little sound, almost something like longing, and closed his eyes, leaning into Boba’s hand that now cupped his jaw.

“You’re a kriffing mess,” Boba declared. Mando’s eyes opened again at that, all wide and teary, brow crumpled.

“‘M sorry ….” Mando said, on the verge of tears. Boba hissed, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his neck, fingers massaging gently at the base of Mando’s skull.

“No better place to be a mess than here. You’re safe,” Boba assured, hoping to get that point across at least. Mando relaxed under his hand, his shoulders slumping forwards. Boba took a breath, just watching him for a long moment.

“We should get you out of that armor, Mando, get a bit more comfortable,” he squeezed gently at Mando’s neck. Mando glanced over at him, and reached a hand that found its way to Boba’s kneecap.

“Name’s Din,” he said, his voice nearly whispered. Boba’s brow furrowed.

“Right. We’ll see if you remember this tomorrow. If not, I’ll pretend to have forgotten it.”

This seemed to immediately distress Mando … Din … who lurched forwards, his grip tightening on Boba’s knee.

“No. No - I want you to know. Want you to know me,” he said, his proximity close enough that it would make Boba uncomfortable with anyone else. Instead Boba clicked his tongue, patting Din on the shoulder.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow … Din,” he added his name with a small smile on his lips, and Din smiled back at him, eyes that had previously looked so sad now sparkling over at him.

“Okay,” Din said, in an almost dreamy tone. Boba shook his head at him.

“If I get you more water, will you drink slow and keep it down?” he asked, leaning forwards to get better eye contact from him. Din nodded at that, very seriously.

“Right. I’ll be right back … again,” Boba snorted, making sure Din was in a position where he’d less likely risk falling off the bed.

He made his way to the fresher, grabbing a towel to clean up Din’s mess, and filled another glass with water. As an afterthought, he rooted around in a drawer, grabbing a spare ultrasound cleaner for teeth.

When he returned, Din was right where he left him, watching him walk back in intently. Boba hid a smile, sitting down beside him again. This time, he held the glass of water while he encouraged Din to drink, making sure he went with sips instead of gulping the whole damn thing down. Satisfied with half a glass, he put it to the side, handing Din over the pseudo-toothbrush.

“Think you can handle this? It’s a spare. Didn’t figure you’d wanna wake up with aftertaste. I always hated that.”

Din nodded at him, and Boba chuckled. A man of few words. He started on cleaning his teeth while Boba cleaned the mess off the floor - good enough until morning, at least. He’d have one of the cleaning droids give the room a shine while he worked.

Din finished with his teeth before he was done, and the ultrasound cleaner found its place on the nightstand alongside the half empty glass of water.

“Right. Now, you wanna get that armor off for the night, or do you enjoy sleeping in metal?” he asked, approaching Din again, who was looking more and more like he was about to pass out as time passed. Boba would like to get the beskar off of him before that happened, ideally.

“Yeah,” Din rasped out in that gravelly voice of his, his stare intent on Boba. Boba faltered just slightly before he reached over, helping to begin the process, starting with the pauldrons. By the time they were finished, Din was slipping into sleep. Boba smiled and got the armor tucked away safely underneath the bed, well guarded between the two of them. He reached over to brush the curl that had fallen over Din’s forehead away again. Din’s eyes snapped open, and their gazes were drawn together for a long moment.

“Stay,” Din breathed out, sitting up again, his hand reaching for Boba’s. Flustered, Boba chuckled, turning his head away.

“I’m fine, don’t worry-” he cut himself off as he found Din’s face inches from his. Gulping, he looked into Din’s eyes, which were pointed towards his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his lips were covered with Din’s, his jaw cupped by a calloused hand. In shock, Boba immediately responded by kissing back, his hand moving to curl into the back of Din’s hair. But he was snapped out of it soon enough when Din pressed closer, trying to wriggle his way into Boba’s lap. Boba pulled away, pressing a hand against Din’s chest as his own heaved.

“Steady - I-” his own voice was tangled up and hoarse now as he tried to collect all the thoughts rushing through his head. “You’re drunk, Mandalorian. Let’s … save this for tomorrow, yeah? If you even remember,” Boba sighed, just gazing at the man in front of him, drinking in the sight of his mussed hair, heaving chest, and flushed face.

Din blinked at him a few times, then nodded slowly, eyes falling shut with a goofy grin on his face. Boba near giggled at that, his hands soothing the mussed hair back as he guided Din back on the bed, tugging the sheets over him.

“Sleep it off,” he added again, not unkindly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

As he turned the lights off and settled down onto the nearby couch for the night, Boba slowly ran his fingers over his lips.

@bobadinweek

#bobadin #bobadinweek2021 #boba fett #bobin #din djarin #the mandalorian #myfic #mine

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just-my-fandom · 4 years ago

Text

Rocky Road P8 (JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader)

Part 8

Summary; Reader and JJ make up. After going fishing with Ward, John B reveals the truth suddenly to the reader about their father. The chief is now dead. John B and Sarah run away.

Warning(s); Mentions of death, mentions of getting sick (vomit)

A/N; PLEASE READ. There’s a lot of scenes I really didn’t feel like writing, such as the whole death of the chief, etc. So, I combined episodes 8, 9, and 10 together. So technically, this is the last part. But I will include an epilogue

Taglist; @bibliophilewednesday @sexualparkour @jjpouggues @poguestyle17

“So we’re okay?”

It’s the morning after. You and JJ sit on opposite edges of the hot tub, legs knee deep in the warm water.

“Yeah,” Your lips tilt in a small smile, JJs arms propped on his knees as his hands take your own, “Only if you promise to stop acting psycho,”

“Oh, totally,” JJ nods, releasing one of your hands to run it through his hair, “If me getting super drunk and having a terrible hang over last night doesn’t change me, then I don’t know what will,”

“J,” You warn, JJ huffing a short laugh before he nods, leaning forward so your faces were nearly inches apart,

“I promise,” He murmurs, raising his hand to cup the back of your neck and pull your lips against his, “Because I love you. And I’m not going to let my stupidity make me lose you,”

“Good,” You hum, raising your own hands to his hair, his body leaning forward enough to where he steps into the hot tub, arms wrapping around your waist,

But before he can pull you into the water yourself, Kiaras call to your brother causes you to pull away and look over your shoulder, JJ looking around you to watch as John B stomped across the yard of your home with a stone look on his face,

“John?” You call as Kiara did, sliding off the edge of the hot tub to slide on your flats, watching your twin brother move inside the Chateau, “JB,”

“Uh, what’s that all about?” Pope asks, as you shrug and move up the steps to the front porch, pausing as John B desperately searched for something,

“You all right, man?” Pope questions, “What’s up?”

“What’re you looking for?” Kiara rushes, irritated at the silence your brother gave to the group,

You watch as John B pulls the hand gun from under the couch cushions, “John B, what do you need the gun for?”

“Talk to us-,” JJ demands, and you move forward as soon as John B shoves JJ away, onto the pull out mattress,

“John B, what the fuck are you doing?” You shout, moving after John Bs retreating form to the backyard, “If you’re still mad at JJ from yesterday, we’re fine! We made up!”

“I don’t give a damn about the two of you,” John B grumbles, and you pause to watch him climb on JJs motorbike,

“Dude!” JJ shouts, John B finally turning with an angry snarl,

“Ward knows about the gold!” He shouts, and you huff a breath, heart nearly stopping at his next words, “He killed dad,”

“What?” You whisper, JJ quick to move up to you as John B sped away, JJs hand at your upper arm.

Your eyes leave John Bs retreating figure to look at JJ, hand resting at your stomach as you watched JJs mouth move, but no words were heard,

“Baby,” JJ calls, lifting a hand to caress your face as you swallow, thickly, “Hey, hey. Look at me,”

Quickly, you shake your head, exhaling sharply as Kiara moved up next to JJ, “She’s going to be sick-,” Kiara and Pope watch, alarmed, as you duck behind the parked van, JJs hand running down your back as you cough, violently,

“Hey, alright,” JJ murmurs, pulling you into him as his gaze shifts up to his other friends, watching Pope run a hand over his head and look in the distance where John B had left.

“Okay, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops,” Kiara speaks from her spot at the front end of the HMS Pogue, your brows pinched as you look at her,

“And what would we say, Kie? Ward Cameron killed Big John? They’re going to think it’s some- fucking grieving mechanism for me and John B,” You huff, face hot and eyes puffy,

“They’re not gonna believe us if we tell them anything revolving Ward,” JJ states, and Pope raises his goggles,

“Hey, I see Ward,”

“I don’t know if I should be glad he’s alive for John Bs sake or not,” You mutter, tossing a rock that was in the boat into the water,

“Looks alive to me. Let’s go,” Pope orders, and you look up in confusion,

“Wait. What?”

“Obviously Mr. Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay?” Pope shakes his head, “Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours,”

“Yeah, well, our friend is in trouble,” Kiara states, Pope shrugging his shoulders,

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days. My dads probably put all my shit on the street by now,”

“So, you’re just gonna bail?” Kiara asks, and you look at JJ with pinched brows so the blonde moves up, protectively, “This is about friendship, this is about Pogues for life!”

“Where were you when Big John went missing? Huh?” Pope hisses, your eyes watching as Kiara glanced at you, “You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, or Y/N,”

“Guys,” You plea, pressing yourself into JJs front, “Kie, just let him go home,”

“No, I want her to remember,” Pope snarls, finger jabbing at Kiara, “Remember your kook year? You forgot about us. Y/N lost her best friend. Her dad goes missing and you werent there for her,”

“Give me a break!” Kiara demands, shoving Popes front so Pope shoved her back, JJ quick to release you and move between his two friends,

“Guys, cut it out!” JJ orders, your arms wrapping around yourself as you blink away the burn in your eyes, “If I’m the one mediating then we’ve hit rock bottom,”

“Let’s just go home,” You murmur, JJ looking at you as you move to the wheel of the boat,

“I’ve got it,” JJ soothes, pointing to the front end of the boat where Pope departed to. “Pope, we’ll drop you off,”

You inhale a deep, slow breath, raising your hand to rub at your eye in exhaustion.

“John B, you have to go,” You stare at your twin brother. Peterkin was dead. John B was framed for her murder. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. To you, and to Sarah, but I can’t let you go to jail, for a murder you didn’t commit,”

“You weren’t an ass,” John B forces himself to chuckle, attempting to pull a smile to your face. He fails. “You were being a protective, annoying sister,”

You huff your own laugh, licking your lips, “I’m serious, John. Get Sarah, and go,”

John Bs movements are swift. His arms slide around you in an embrace, tightening around you when hearing your sniffle.

“I love you sis,” He mutters, “Seriously,”

You lean back, hitting his chest, “I love you too. Dick,”

You step away, watching John B step onto the boat JJ lended to John B. “Remember dude,” JJ steps up, arm sliding across your shoulders, “Brownsville. We’ll see you in Mexico in two months,”

“Got it,” John B smiles, watching you slide your arm behind JJs back and take his hand with your free, “Take care of her, JJ,” JJ glances down at you, “I mean it,”

The boat pulls off with a heave. Your eyes blur, looking up at JJ with a smile that matched his.

“Hands up!”

Twirling around, you barely catch a glimpse of Shoupe raising his gun before JJ pushes you behind him. In unison, the group of four raise their hands, your eyes wide,

“Where the hell is he?” Shoupe asks, roughly, “Where the hell is he?!”

“JJ,” He continues, “I see you’re living up to your name. Pope? How about you? This isn’t a fucking game!” Shoupe eyes shift to yours, “Your father would be really disappointed in you young lady,”

“Dont ever bring up my father,” You step up, one of JJs arms dropping to grasp your waist, but immediately pulls it back when Shoupe pins your hands behind your back.

“Let’s fucking go,”

“Sit down. Don’t move,” You look up from your spot inside the tent. Cops, everywhere. You felt sick again.

JJs hand takes yours, squeezing enough to guide your attention to him, where his blue eyes meet your own. JJ shifts your intertwined hands to his lap, thumb brushing across the back of your hand.

You flinch at the rough crack of thunder.

“We lost them,” Shoupe mutters, almost as soon as your ears began to ring. Like the day prior, you see everyone’s mouths moving, but no words.

Except JJ. “What do you mean you lost them?” JJs hand leaves yours as he stands, and you suddenly zone back in, “You had them on radio!”

“The storm cut out their signal,” Shoupe sighs, dropping the talkie in his hand. His head shakes, “We lost them,”

JJ is first to turn to you. Just as quick, your ears begin to ring, not hearing him call out to you. Lost them. Lost, as in, dead? Like Big John?

“Baby,” JJ tries, again, the large group watching as he knelt in front of where you still sat and raised his hands to your face, “Hey, can you hear me?”

JJ is forced to watch as you gasp in a deep breath. With a shattered sob, you nearly fall forward, JJs arms quick to catch you and pull you up into his arms.

“He didn’t do it,” You heave, eyes wide despite the tears that blocked your vision, “He didn’t- didn’t kill anyone,”

JJs arms tighten around you, before he slides his hands back to your face a second time, thumbs attempting to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Forehead against yours, he exhales a shuddered breath as you began to break down.

“Sweetheart-,” Kiaras mom barely leans away from Kiara to extend her hand to you, your head shaking as your eyes finally pinch shut in defeat,

“No,” You whisper, JJs own face crumbling, “No, no. JJ-?”

JJs arms slide around your shoulders, ducking his nose into your hair as your own grab at his button up, feeling Kiaras mom press herself behind you in another wall of comfort.

First Big John. Now, John B and Sarah?

A/N; Well that ended like shit, lol. Again, yes. I did skip a lot of scenes revolving the last three episodes. But honestly? They were unnecessary. But leave ALL feedback as you can, and I hope, pray that you enjoyed this story. It’s been a pleasure.

#jj maybank drabble #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #john b routeledge #sarah cameron #ward cameron

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thesightstoshowyou · 4 years ago

Note

Literally anything from that prompt list with Bo would send me over lol.... but specifically 26, 24 and 48 together 💀💀💀

-the-slasher-flies 🔪💕

I also got, "You look real pretty when you cry,” for Bo so I’m going to combine all these into one, filthy fic. I went off the rails with this one. Please thank my husband for all the beautiful ammunition for this story ;)

Territorial

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Dubcon, violence, blood, minor character death, heavy degradation, slapping, daddy kink, biting, marking, spanking, belt, hair pulling, choking, spitting, possessiveness, creampie

The second the laugh leaves your mouth, you know you’re fucked.

Bo had asked you to meet one of the travelers at the gas station, to keep them busy while he delt with the others. The guy who sauntered through the door had proven to be funny, charming, and handsome; a horrible combination when Bo’s ego was added to the equation. Shamelessly, he flirted, and you couldn’t help but smile at the attention.

Then…. Then he’d made a joke the second Bo had strolled into the shop and you couldn’t stop the surprised giggle that bubbled up your throat. The color drains from your face when you spot the blue mechanic’s suit out of the corner of your eye. Bo knows when you’re faking a laugh and this wasn’t one of those times.

He fixes you to the spot with that furious stare you’ve come to know so well, so intimately. You bite your lip, apologizing with your eyes, but he’s having none of it. The young man catches sight of your terrified face, turns to you, asks you if you’re okay. He reaches for your arm, maybe to give you a comforting squeeze. He doesn’t see Bo stalking up behind him.

Steel sinks into the man’s neck so easily you would think his skin is made of butter. Thick crimson wells up around the blade, pours down his chest, spills from his lips, parted with shock. His eyes go wide and he drops to his knees, clutching fruitlessly at the lethal wound. You slap your hands over your eyes, turning away, but Bo clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Uh uh, baby girl, yer gonna watch,” he growls, wrenching your hands away from your face, spinning you around, holding you by the jaw, and forcing you to look as the life drains from the man’s sweet, hazel eyes. Cigarette scented breath wafts across your face as Bo whispers in your ear, “Yer gonna watch what ya’ done, yeah? This is all you, baby.”

The man chokes on his own blood, coughs, splutters, then lands face down with a soft thud that hangs heavy in the air. Crimson pools around him as he finally falls still. You can’t breathe, your chest heaving, but refusing to pull in oxygen. You’ve never seen anyone die before.

Bo shoves you up against the counter, forces your eyes to his, cruel smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You try to apologize, stumbling over your words, anything to save you from what comes next.

“B-Bo—

“Shut up, slut. I don’t remember askin,’ huh? You were gonna let that little prick fuck ya’, looked like.”

“N-No! I wouldn’t—

“Oh, no? Ya’ wouldn’t? Does this stupid little whore actually remember who owns her?”

“Bo, please—

You gasp when he delivers a stinging slap to your cheek, hard enough to leave your skin angry and red in its wake. He growls, low and dangerous, “Maybe if I punish ya’, it’ll help ya’ remember who ya’ belong to next time.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead gripping you around the waist and tossing you over his shoulder. Bo heads toward those dreaded basement steps. You haven’t been down there again since your first days in Ambrose. You’d hoped to never see it again.

Bo kicks the door open, drops you unceremoniously on the filthy mattress. The sent of blood, fear, and Bo’s musk billows up around you as you shrink back against the wall, memories of how you’d met brought to the surface by the metallic reek clinging to the walls.

“Do not fuckin’ move,” he orders, pointing a finger at your face. Without a backward glance, he strides across the room. Your eyes dart to the open door, but you squash down the desire to flee. He will catch you. He always does.

A noisy clatter draws your gaze back to the other end of the room. Bo turns, another knife clutched in his palm. He chuckles, relishing in your dread when you visibly tremble. Crossing the room, he kneels at the edge of the bed and beckons you over with a wave of the blade. Obediently, you crawl to him, sitting back on your heels and awaiting further instruction.

“That’s a good girl fer not runnin’. Kinda dumb though, I mean, I gave you an openin’.” He laughs, drags the chilly point of the blade down your cheek, across your jaw, down your neck, pressing it lightly to the exact place he’d buried the other knife into the man upstairs. He hums quietly, strokes your other cheek with his bloody fingers.

“I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.” You shiver at his whispered words, moisture pooling between your thighs despite the terror gripping your throat. Your heart beats frantically against your ribs, pleading at you to fight, to flee, something, but you remain seated on your knees as is expected of you.

Bo uses the knife to saw through your shirt. When you’re bared to him, he wraps an arm around your waist and leans down to sink his teeth into the soft flesh under your collarbone. You wince, suck in air through your teeth, whimper when he sucks a deep purple mark into your skin. He grunts, does it again under your jaw, drags his tongue across your tender flesh until you moan.

“Ohh,” he coos in response, viciously biting your shoulder and making you hiss, “Does that slutty little cunt get wet when I hurt ya’, baby girl?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper, choking on a gasp when Bo shoves your face into the disgusting mattress.

“Ass up, whore,” he orders, cutting into your shorts and underwear enough so he can rip them off your hips. “Jesus Christ, look at that,” he murmurs as he drags the flat of the cool blade along the lips of your dripping pussy. You clench your eyes shut, icy fear surging through your veins. Oh god, oh god, please don’t….

“Look, fuckin’ look,” he growls, fisting a hand in your hair so he can wrench your head off the bed and shove the glistening steel in front of your face, “Look at how fuckin’ wet y’are. Just achin’ for any cock to fill that whore cunt, huh?” As well as you can with how hard he grips your hair, you furiously shake your head.

“No? No, yer not a filthy slut?” You shake your head again, wondering if you dare speak.

You risk it, “Yours,” you whimper, gritting your teeth when he shoves the knife closer to your lips.

“Oh, so now ya’ remember, huh, now that ya’ have a knife in yer face?” You nod and Bo shoves you back into the mattress. The knife clatters to the ground and you hear the clink and slip of his belt as he jerks it off his hips. You clamp your eyes shut when he snaps the leather, knowing exactly what comes next.

The first slap of leather across your skin makes you jump and shriek. Sharp, stinging pain follows each noisy smack, the sound bouncing off the walls and ceiling until all you can hear are the blows, your yelps, and the blood rushing in your ears. You wriggle, flinching as much as you dare as leather connects agonizingly with your skin again and again. You wish the pain didn’t make you burn with need, but Bo’s conditioned you well after all this time.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, warm palm smoothing over the angry, throbbing skin of your ass and thighs. He drops the belt, leans over you, tips your head to the side, and brushes his thumb through the tears you just now realize are staining your cheeks.

“Oh, baby girl, ya’ look real pretty when ya’ cry. Roll over.” You do, flopping onto your back as quickly as possible. Bo spreads your slick thighs wide, settles between them, pops the button on his pants, and slides the zipper. He pulls his painfully hard, flushed cock from his pants, sighing in relief and lifting you hips to line up with your damp entrance. With a grunt and a groan, he slams home, plowing through tight, slippery muscles and tearing a scream from your throat.

Bloody, calloused hands wrap around your neck and silence your cry. He jackhammers you into the mattress, indifferent to your own pleasure, intent on permanently imprinting himself in your cunt for all time.

“That’s right, baby, that’s right.” You choke on nothing, twisting your hands in the sheets, face feeling like it’s going to burst with how hard he squeezes your throat, “Sure, yer a cock hungry slut, but yer my cock hungry slut, got that? This. Is. Mine.” You nod and he lets off so you can gulp in air and cough.

“Yer nothin’ but my stupid little fuck toy, yeah? Say, ‘Yes, daddy.’”

“Y-Yes, daddy!” you shout, moaning loudly when he tilts his hips and batters that perfect spot he knows will make you scream. Bo spits on your chest, smearing the saliva over your breasts and rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger. He slides his wet hand up your neck, over your chin, and shoves three spit-covered fingers in your mouth.

“Suck on my fingers, get ‘em nice and wet fer me.” You suck as well as you can, laving your tongue along the pads of his digits until he groans. Bo rips his fingers from your mouth, spits on them, brings them to your clit. He mashes the sensitive bud until you’re keening and meeting each punishing thrust.

“Ya’ think you deserve to cum, slut?” You shake your head and Bo laughs, “No? That’s right, ya’ don’t. Only good girls get ta’ cum.”

“P-Please, daddy,” you whine, “Please, I’ll-I’ll be g-good.”

“Ya’ wanna be good now?” Frantically, you nod, heat building in your core, muscles fluttering around the cock assaulting your insides.

“Who-f-fuck-who do ya’ belong to?”

“You! Bo, daddy, please, you, I’m yours, I’m yours, please, fuck, I’m, I have—

“That’s right, bitch, yer mine. Mine. This filthy fuckin’ cunt is mine.”

“Yes! Yes! Yours! Please, daddy, PLEASE!” You’re going to implode, shaking from head to toe, poised right at the brink but terrified to fall.

“Cum for me, slut, cum on my cock, fuckin’ do it.” You scream, vision whiting out, back arching off the mattress, every nerve in your body alight with beautiful sensation.

“Fuck, god, fuck, ‘m gonna fill that dumb cunt up with cum.” Bo wraps his hands around your throat and buries his cock as far into you as he can get. With a broken cry he spills warmth into your belly, his face twisted with pleasure as your twitching muscles milk him dry.

Bo slumps, catching himself with hands planted on either side of your head. Breathing hard, you meet his gaze under your teary lashes. The anger burning in his baby blues has dampened to a smolder. There’s more lust there than anything else now.

“Say it again,” he rasps, dry throat cracking when he speaks.

“I’m yours, Bo.”

“That’s my girl.”

#bo sinclair #bo x reader #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax (2005)#house of wax #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #n sfw #my writing #thank you for the ask #bo sinclair x you #reader insert #mmmmm fuck this was fun to write #even more fun when it happens in real life #hehe

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talesofphantombandits · 4 years ago

Text

Zero to Six ~ The Death of Six - Edited version.

Greetings and salutations! So I know this isn’t what everyone wanted but people are still reading Zero to Six and I’m honestly so grateful that a year on, people are still loving this series. But I never felt like I wrote it properly, the chapters where always too short and I felt like they were never detailed enough so I wanted to bring to you an edited version (that probably still won’t be perfect.) one that I’m more satisfied with. I will be keeping the original version up just in case people prefer that one, maybe one day I’ll take it down? who knows but yeah so enjoy! <3 P.s I’ve missed you all so much and I’ve really missed this series. Hopefully sometime soon the Prequel will be out which I have started and named ‘Before there was Six, there was Zero.’

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c

Zero to Six ~ Part 2. Edited Version. Masterlist.

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m not stalling.” Zero could practically hear the smirk in Fours voice over the coms. “I’m simply just working myself up to it.”

She laughed. “You always say that, and you’re always stalling.” She was playing on his last nerve, she knew it but this would be good for Four and entertainment for her. He always worked better when he was frustrated and no one stressed him out quite like Zero.

Four had been doing parkour for most of his life, or that’s what he told them. Yet he was still fearful every single time, still I guess that’s what made him great at it the fear of always falling gave him the adrenaline he needed to make the jumps.

Another breathless laugh fluttered through Zeros left ear. “Don’t test me darling.” Now it was his turn to make Zero sweat, this always happened. Zero would insult and tease and Four would flirt right back, although most of the team were used to it by now they still broke them up from time to time.

“Whatever monkey boy, just be ready for when Six gets his ass in gear!” She clicked her tongue. “I can hear you mocking me asshole, remember I hold the key here I can make your life a living hell with just one click of a button.”

“You already make my life hell darling, But I live for it everyday.”

“Swear to god Four, you’re a pain in my ass.” She mumbled as she typed away at the computer trying to figure out their next move so she could be ready with any instruction they needed.

“I’m sure your ass is pretty fine, I can’t wait to see it someday.” She could practically feel the smirk.

“Yeah? And I can't wait to punch the smirk off that pretty face one day, only you could be in a life or death situation and be thinking about my virtual ass.”

“Wait, did you just admit to fancying me Zero? Guys she called me handsome, I think I’m getting somewhere.”

“Go for Four!” Saved by the bell it seems, One’s voice rang through coms. Zero silently thanked god for she did fancy Four, who wouldn’t fancy that absolute Greek god of a man? With that honey voice and the moves he had! moves he could use on her, she shook her head hoping the images of him forming in her head would magically fall out of her brain never to return, but she wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Shut the hell up, stop thinking about ways to seduce Zero and get your ass down here we need you!” And just like that, it was go time. “NOW!”

Zero had been working with this team for a while now, but she was more on the surveillance side of the missions, which meant that she had never officially met the team face to face. The only person she had actually met was One, who had recruited her. He would visit from time to time, she liked to think they had a special bond. She was in fact the first person in need that One had found and ever since then he had become a sort of father figure to her.

Two was next who was sort of cold at times, Zero put this down to her CIA training but she had never been anything but caring towards Zero. Then she found Three, a hitman who she was reluctant to look into at first but she knew now it was the best thing for her and the team. Despite his past he was one of the most sweet and caring men she’d ever met, and he never failed to make her smile on a bad day. Ever since recruiting Four, she felt the atmosphere in the group shift slightly, there was nothing bad about him but they both couldn’t ignore the growing attraction between them, and this was just over cyber space. She then found her best friend in Five, she was different from the rest. Not as violent and rash but still amazing at what she did and protecting herself and others, Zero knew if she ever needed someone the first person she’d go to was Five.

Six was her latest recruit, one that she knew was extremely talented in not only driving but in all things mechanical too, they had chatting a few times about servers and bots and he’d promised her a round in their shared favourite video game once this mission was complete.

She’d be lying to herself and everyone else if she said she didn’t want to meet them all in person, they were the closest thing she had, had to family. However she knew that if she was to meet them nothing could ever come of her and Four. One would definitely not allow it, and most likely lock her straight back up.

Still they were sort of this dysfunctional family, and she was definitely the odd one out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had, had a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t ‘dead’ the only time she was allowed to leave the flat was when One said it was moving day. He didn’t like her staying in one flat too long, she must have moved at least four times this year already. While she was alone in her flat eating ready meals they were all back at base eating together, she sometimes pretended she was there eating with them. Three telling her some stupid story that no one else is listening to because they have heard it at least a thousand times, but she would just be so happy to hear his beautiful accent in person that she would listen to anything he was telling her. How she wished she could hug three in real life. The closest she had gotten to eating with them was over coms, sometimes they would leave the line open for debriefing but it still made her feel like an outcast.

“I’m coming down!” Everything was going wrong, Six had gone the wrong way. Which Zero wasn’t surprised to see as everyone in the car was shouting at each other, she sat there in her gaming chair drinking Dr Pepper and enjoying her fried chicken meal while everyone was losing their minds in the field. Maybe getting to stay in the comfort of her flat wasn’t so bad after all?

“Good boy.” She praised Four. “Finally putting those parkour skills to use, other than robbing some innocent person.”

Even before he started to speak she could tell he’d started to run because his speech came out in huffs. “Shut up, at least I can do parkour which makes me cooler than a girl who sits at her computer all day.”

She had to laugh. “What are you? Five years old? Try again when you can think up better come backs, I can’t take you seriously right now.”

Wherever One moved Zero was never too far away from where the team worked, the first time the rest of the team worked this out was when Zero first used the drone to help navigate them someplace safe. That was also the first time she finally got to see Four in action, the image of him running along the rooftops like a monkey in the jungle both amused her and impressed her. Hence the nickname she had given him. But there were also times when he would have close calls, where he had nearly fallen to his death that’s when the breath would get knocked out of her and she would only calm when she knew he was safe on the ground again.

“Right over you guys.” He said in a strained voice while leaping onto another roof.

“So guys, just look out for the flying monkey above you. That will be Four.” Most of the teasing with Four was just to pass the time while they were out in the field having fun and mainly it was just way too fun to hear him get so frustrated.

“Zero, that’s not helping us.” One said in a sing-song voice.

“Maybe it’s not helping you, but it is definitely helping me pass the time.” All she could hear was a disappointed grunt from One which just made her chuckle,it was also very fun to piss One off.

“Six! SIX! Wrong way god damn it!”

She cringed at how loud Four had screamed down the coms. “Come back! I’ve got an idea.”

“Ladies and gentleman, for the first time in his life Four has an idea!” She said mindlessly typing away trying to find the best route for them to escape by.

“You know what Zero, when we finally meet I’m going to run that fine ass of yours into the ground.” He all but growled.

“You can try monkey boy, but you’ll have to catch me first.” She smirked to herself, she secretly hoped that, that was more of a promise than a mere threat. “Oh, challenge accepted sweetheart. I’d love to have a game of cat and mouse with you.”

“You two do remember that we are on a mission right now, right?” Six moaned. “What with you two flirting, and these absolute idiots fighting beside me in the car. I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on driving!” With every word Six’s voice got more agitated and louder.

“We are not flirting!” Both Four and Zero exclaimed together.

“Aww they even said it at the same time!” Zero just rolled her eyes at One’s teasing. “No one cares, now both of you shut up so we can all get out of here.”

“That’s it Six, keep coming towards me!” The drone was filming just above the action, once she’d wiped her hands and they were free from the grease on her chicken. She finally realised what Four was about to do.

Suddenly the car that was tailing Six was being impaled by five metal tubes. “God, okay I’m definitely done eating now. That was so gross.”

Then the screaming started to fill the coms. “Guy’s, what the hell are you doing?” All Zero could make out was something about an eyeball.

“This is so stressful! Can everyone stop arguing and speaking over each other?!” Zero was getting agitated now.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE STRESSED?! I’M TRYING TO DRIVE WHILST ALSO TRYING NOT TO KILL ANYONE, DID I MENTION I ALSO HAVE AN EYEBALL ON MY LEG?!” Six all but screamed down the coms, loud enough that Zero had to remove her earpiece until she was sure he was done with his rant.

“Six sweetie,” she said as calmly as she could, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“DO I SOUND LIKE I’M OKAY ZERO?!” She knew he would say that, she finally let out the chuckle she was trying to hold as to not irritate him further.

“Sorry I was just asking. I swear I‘m not using your painful situation to make myself feel better.” She held her hands up in defence even though he couldn’t see her.

He just let out a huff. “I’m going to ignore you now Zero, you’re pissing me off more than these guys are.”

After the commotion things went quiet for a while, there was now a helicopter tailing them so all effort and concentration went on losing it. While there was little chatter over the coms the main sound that dominated the air was the gunfire, Zero silently prayed to herself while she watched the drone that everyone would make it out of their first real mission alive. One finally found a route for them, conveniently inside of a building that would shelter them enough to lose the aerial surveillance they were under.

“The drone will meet you on the other side, good luck and please try not to make too much of a mess in there Six. There are some priceless statues in there we would all like preserving.” Just as Zero finished her sentence she heard a loud crash.

“You were saying?” Six chuckled nervously.

“You didn’t.” Zero stared shocked at her screen, mouth wide open.

One was the one to respond to her though. “Unfortunately he did, don’t worry we’re all just as disappointed in him.”

“Okay we finally lost the chopper, Zero do you have a visual?” One asked surprisingly calmly.

“You mean the bright green car, kind of hard to miss. Good choice Six you really blend in.” Zero laughed. “I see you, there are two black vans heading your way. Shake them off then head to the arranged rendezvous spot where Three will be waiting for you.”

Six’s voice was strained when he spoke. “Listen, fast and convenient was what I was told to get. So that’s what I got.”

Zero would have responded but she was more distracted by the sight of Four on a skateboard holding a launcher. He jumped off the board and leaped up onto the stone wall just as one of the black vans passed, he aimed and shot, never missing the mark. She was impressed for a moment but then saw the smug smile on his face, he looked directly into the drone and winked at Zero. She just scoffed, what an absolute show off.

“Seems like we have a superhero on our team.” Six laughed impressed.

Zero scoffed again, but this time loud enough so everyone could hear it over the coms. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a superhero.”

“Then what would you call me darling? A Greek god?” This is the thing about Four, he’d never met Zero in person but he knew exactly how to push her buttons. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the banter from time to time.

“Hurm more like a vein asshole that thinks far too highly of himself.” She snapped back.

But he just laughed, the complete opposite of what she was expecting. “I mean everyone else loves me, might as well love myself too.” She rolled her eyes, She really couldn’t blame him though he was a very handsome man but no way in hell was she ever going to tell him that. “One day you’ll fall for the charm that everyone else falls for. I know you’re already obsessed with me.”

“In your dreams Four.”

“It already happens in my dreams, every night darling. I’d be happy to elaborate later on in a private chat.” Zero audibly gagged.

“Guy’s can we please cut out the flirting until after the mission? We’re nearly there and I don’t think any of us want to hear whatever this is.” One sounded tired and Zero just laughed at how much their fighting annoyed the other members.

“Yes boss!” She added in a salute even though One couldn’t see her, he could feel she was mocking him.

Just then the drone cut out. “Shit! Someone shot down the drone. You’re on your own from here guys.”

There was a commotion through the coms, one that didn’t sound at all good. Car tyres screeched, bullets rain down on the metal of the car Zero held her breath as she waited for anything. Even just a breath so she knew at least someone was still alive, her heart stopped when the line had been silent for too long she had to know what happened.

“Guys, come on talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you all being so silent? What happened?” There was another breath of silence and her mind went straight to Four, she shook her head. No! She wasn’t going to let herself think about that, she scolded herself for getting too attached to the little shit.

The was a crackle over the line, Five cleared her throat. “Six is dead, we’re in the van, the space is clear.”

Zero sucked in a breath, she felt like her lungs were burning. “What?”

“Zero listen to me, you need to turn off coms now.” One must have turned from the group, he was using his quiet, serious voice. “I’ll handle this okay, I’ll check back in with you later.”

Just like that he was gone, she clicked the switch to turn off almost absentmindedly. She sat back in her chair, only snapping back to reality when she felt something wet fall on her hand. She softly touched her face to find her cheeks were wet, when had she started to cry? Six wasn’t someone she knew in person, he had been the last member of the team but still a very important piece of their puzzle. She thought about the game he had promised to play with her after the mission, this would never come to pass now. Now he was really dead, and it was all her fault.

For the first time Zero started to think about the whole team and if One’s master plan of being ghosts to take down the world’s evil was such a good idea after all, why had it taken a real death in the team for her to even think about this. What if it had been Four, she didn’t think she could live with herself if anything ever happened to Four, maybe it was a good thing they had never met. Seeing him in person, hearing his deep honey voice, feeling his warmth would definitely make her fall deeper then she already was. He was just a voice over the coms but behind that was a real person, one that probably wouldn’t even share the same feelings towards her. So she thought ‘Yes, It’s a good thing I’m behind this computer screen and not with them in person.’ She had to try to distance herself from now on.

......

Just wanted to say one last Thank You! for the continued support for this story <3

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy four #6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfiction #four fanfic #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #billy x reader #billy x oc #billy x scout #6 underground x reader

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