#and that motherfucker CHANGED DIRECTIONS TO FOLLOW ME

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck i forgot an episode of monster next door included a tarantula

*moves the show to the monitor on my right and closes that eye too*

[juanarc-thethird]

Dr. Arc #3

Jaune: *To de camera* A few days ago it was my birthday and my grandmother gave me one of her delicious pies, just for me. I brought my last piece here to eat with my lunch. But to make sure no one took it, I put it all the way to the back in the refrigerator and with several notes saying "Do not touch" and "Property of Dr. Arc."

---------

Jaune is placing his pie all the way in the back of the fridge and then starts putting everything else back inside.

---------

Jaune: There's no way anyone would eat it.

---------

Lunch time

Ren: Hey Jaune, today we're all going to eat outside in the garden. The weather is good today.

Jaune: Ok, I'll just finish some paperwork and catch up to you guys.

Ren: Sounds good. *leaves*

The camera shows how Jaune continues working but in the distance, through one of the clinic windows, you can see Ozpin checking the staff refrigerator.

---------

The scene changed with Jaune filing the papers in his file cabinet.

Jaune: Well, I'm done. Now it's time to eat my pie~

The camera follows him to the refrigerator. He starts taking things out, and when he gets to the end he freezes in place.

---------

Ozpin's Office

The camera shows Ozpin at his desk working on some papers.

Ozpin: *Drinking Coffe*

*Ting!*

Suddenly the camera changes direction to the elevator doors and Glynda appears.

Glynda: Ozpin, we have a problem.

---------

Staff room

The camera shows everyone scared as Jaune holds Yang hostage using a syringe.

Jaune: Ok motherfuckers! Who the hell ate my pie?!! Tell me now, or the girl gets it!

Yang: *Blushing* Oh god~💕 You are so strong~💕

Weiss: *Worry* Jaune, please calm down. We can talk about this in a civilized manner, let Yang go..

Yang: *Angry* Hey, don't ruin this to me. Don't listen to her, Jaune. Don't even think about letting me go from your strong arms~💕

Weiss: Yang, you're not helping!

Yang: You're jealous because he didn't choose you as a hostage.

Weiss: *Angry blushing* I'm not!!

Ozpin: What's going on here?!

The camera changes to Ozpin, with Glynda behind him. Everyone turns to see him.

Ozpin: Dr. Arc, what do you think you are doing? Let Professor Xiao Long go.

Jaune: No! Someone ate my pie and they don't tell me who it was. And I won't let her go until they tell me who it was.

Yang: Yes please~💕

Ozpin: Wait, are you perhaps talking about a lemon pie with chocolate chips?

Jaune: Yes, how do you know? It was wrapped in aluminum

Ozpin: Oh, I think I'm to blame in all this.

Jaune: Huh?

Ozpin: I'm very sorry Dr. Arc, but it seems that I ate your pie by mistake.

Jaune: But it had my name!

Ozpin: And I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that important to you.

Jaune: *Shock* You ate it all?

Ozpin: Not completely, it was too sweet for me. I threw the rest in the trash.

Jaune: *Surprise* You threw it in the trash?!

Ozpin: I hope you can forgive me.

Jaune: *Let Yang go* You know what, don't worry about it. Mistakes happen all the time, right.

Ozpin: Oh I'm glad to hear that. Well, with this resolved. Let's all go back to work, okay?

Ozpin turns around if he leaves, with Glynda following behind him. The camera then focuses on Jaune, who doesn't look away from Ozpin without blinking. It's kind of intimidating.

---------

Ozpin's office

Ozpin is looking out of his window at the scenery of the school and city. He holds up his cup of coffee and takes a sip.

*ting!*

Ozpin: hm?

The camera shows the elevator door to his office open with Jaune stepping out of it.

Ozpin: Dr. Arc, I was not expecting your visit. How can I help you??

Jaune: I came to give you my two weeks' notice.

He puts his letter on his desk and leaves. Ozpin takes the letter and begins to open it without looking away from Jaune.

Ozpin: Is it because I ate your pie? Please Dr. Arc, it was just an…

At that moment he reads the letter and it says:

"I will attack in two weeks."

Ozpin: ..Accident

He looks back at Jaune, and as the elevator doors close he can see an evil smile spread across his face. Then Jaune moves his lips without making any noise saying "two weeks." Ozpin starts to break out in a cold sweat.

Ozpin: I think I made a huge mistake.

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 3: Let's Have a Baby

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence and death (ofc), implied child loss Note: The much-awaited part 3 of The Captain! Thank you so much for all of your support! And don't y'all, Part 4 is brewing ;) Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“Mohawk’s gettin’ particularly long, Johnny boy. When’s the last time you took any off the top?” Freyja asked, tugging at the end of a long strand at the back of his head.

“Dinnae dae that!” Soap whipped his head around and gave her a look of playful irritation. “If it weren’t for that wee barra in your belly I’d knock ya one, lass.”

“You wish, tough guy.”

“Just you wait, soon as y’return to full duty, we’ll have a square go, ye fuckin’ weapon.”

“I’ll block off my calendar.”

She and Soap had grown rather close since they all returned to England following the mission. As promised, Ghost spoke with Price, who convinced Kate to transfer her to the 141 permanently. While she was on desk duty for now, being on the same team would be tremendously helpful in keeping their schedules in sync. The couple could carpool to and from the base together, and John would do his best to keep them from being deployed at the same time.

Plus, she got to spend all her day with her friends and husband, which was a phenomenal change of pace from their previous setup. It was far less lonely being surrounded by the bustle of the busy base and having other friends to talk to besides Price.

They had a standing ‘play date’, as Price called it, every Friday night, where they watched movies, played board games, and ordered takeout. Board games usually ended in a heated exchange between her and whichever unlucky soul had crossed her (usually during Catan), her normally fiery temper heightened with each month of pregnancy that passed. There had been several instances of Ghost scooping her up in his arms and hauling her away to cool off before (any other) objects were lobbed at someone’s head.

One time, Freyja was in rare form when Gaz refused to trade for a material she desperately needed, and whipped a pointed dinner knife in his direction.

“What is with you guys and throwing bloody knives at me?!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air as Ghost dragged her off, screaming obscenities in various angry-sounding languages.

Soap jerked the blade out of the wall. “Dunno if I should be turned on or terrified,” he had said thoughtfully, turning it over in his hand. 

“BOTH, YOU SLIMY, CHEATING MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Catan was banned for a few weeks after that incident, and Freyja gave Kyle the following day off as an apology, though he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Freyja lowered herself into a chair on the other side of Soap’s desk and leaned her head on her fist, watching him do his paperwork. She’d already finished for the day but was waiting for her husband to fetch her and bring her home to prepare for another Friday with the boys.

“So, Captain, any big plans for this weekend?” Soap asked, still scribbling away at the stack of forms in front of him.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Nah. It’s our anniversary on Sunday. Have a routine visit tomorrow to see how the baby’s growing. Nothing crazy.”

“Anniversary?! You didn’t tell me that was comin’ up!”

Her eyes rolled with a chuckle. “Soap, we aren’t showy people. Never have been,” she started, adjusting to sit straighter after having slid down in the chair a bit. Her round belly had started to weigh down her body a few weeks back, and she was starting to feel the effects of back and neck pain. “We weren’t together for very long when we got engaged, if you’d even call it that. We got married a few days later, as soon as we got back to the UK. Didn’t want to waste time, given our line of work.”

Johnny laughed at this, tossing his pen into a mug he fashioned as a stationary holder. “Oh, I’d bet he just loved slappin’ his name after ‘Captain’, too,” he joked with a raised brow.

The image of a spinning circle on a computer came to mind because that was exactly what she was doing. Buffering, her mouth open slightly while she processed his comment. Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but nothing came out as she stared at the Sergeant.

He clearly picked up on her inner turmoil, because he asked, “What? What’d I say?”

Goddamn pregnancy brain. “Ah…Nothing. He didn’t like me taking his name, actually,” she mostly muttered, unable to find a way out of the conversation at this point. “He asked me not to change my name and I did it anyway.”

“I don’t get it, why wouldn’t Ghost want ya to change yer name?”

Freyja sighed as she rubbed a hand over the top of her bump, a recent habit for comfort. The baby hadn’t been particularly active that day, only offering a bit of shifting. “You’d have to ask him, John.”

She rarely called him John, so he knew the conversation was over on her part. “How’s your back?” Best to change the subject and move on. 

She was grateful for it. “Terrible. Even sitting here is bothering me.”

Soap lit up and he practically jumped to his feet. “I can do that thing I saw Ghost doin’ last week!” He was already in front of her before she could even answer.

He had been relentless ever since he caught their cute little private moment in the kitchen when she was supposed to be getting herself some fruit to snack on. Simon followed shortly after, offering to get her fruit bowl together for her so she could sit down again. Craving some semblance of independence, she instead offered to cut up her snack while her husband took some of the weight off her back.

“Walked myself right into that one. You just want an excuse to grope my belly.”

“Me? Never! M’offended that y’would say such a thing, Bonnie,” he feigned hurt feelings, pouting with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, fine! Come’ere, I’ll show you,” she laughed, high up in her chest. Freyja pulled herself up with his hands and moved them to the more open space in his office. “Alright, so I’m gonna stand here—“ She turned to press her back against his chest and took his wrist in her hands. “—then you just wanna put your hands flat like this—“ She flattened his palms just under the swell of her stomach, by each point of her pelvis. “—and now you carefully pull up. Emphasis on carefully.”

She groaned at the sudden relief, her head falling back against Soap’s shoulder as he just barely lifted her stomach. 

“There w’are. Steamin’ Jesus, how’s such a wee thing so bloody heavy?”

“Yeah, now imagine carrying that around with your back twenty-four-seven.”

They stood silently for a minute, soaking in the relief from the lack of pressure on her disks. A small hand dragged across the underside of her stomach, pressing against Soap’s hand. His chest rumbled against her back, but he held steady.

“Will anyone be coming for a visit? When she’s born?” It was bold of him to bring up such a sensitive subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“No.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“I have everyone I need right here, Johnny. Who else outside my husband would give my back a break and hold my giant belly?” She reached back to jokingly slap his cheek a few times.

“Where’s that husband o’ yours at? It’s gettin’ late.”

A soft knock on the open door had her turning her head. “I’m comin’, Jesus,” Ghost said, approaching with his hands in his pockets, t-shirt tight as ever. He took in her smiling form, intrigued by the scene in front of him. He smiled beneath his mask, eyes crinkling slightly. “How are my girls?”

Freyja flinched, a hand flying to her belly at the sharp kick. She sported an angry pout. “Ow! That hurt, you little–”

“Be nice. She can’t help that I’m her favorite.”

She pulled out of Soap’s hold, sad to lose the help on one hand, but thrilled to see Simon on the other. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m literally creating her organs and limbs, making sure she has ten fingers and toes, and I don’t get so much as a single hand or kick. But the second she hears your stupid voice, she’s suddenly an MMA fighter,” she complained, shoving at his shoulder. “Un-fucking-believable. I hate you.”

“Mmm, sure you do. How will I ever get back in your good graces?”

“I want Chinese tonight.”

“I think I can manage that.” Ghost bent down to gently, but briefly, touch his forehead to hers, one of their familiar gestures to refrain from more overt displays of affection on base. She would occasionally give him a peck over his skull mask, and they often shared passing touches, but neither partner was a huge fan of PDA. In the comfort of their own home, they were much more obvious, even around the other members of the team. Just not on base (save for a quick romp. Or two. Or– y’know what, never mind).

“Aw, lookit ya wee sook,” Soap cooed, nudging Ghost with his elbow as he walked past, gathering his things to head home.

She giggled and patted Simon’s pec. “He really is!”

Simon grumbled but guided Freyja to the door with a hand on her lower back. “If you lot keep talkin’ nonsense around me, I’ll pop a gasket.”

“It’s not nonsense, Simon. It’s a beautiful language. One that your people just so happened to smother into near extinction,” she sang, pursing her lips in a challenge as she looked up at him walking next to her.

“OOO, sick burn, lass!” Soap smacked their hands together, laughing heartily.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

~*~

Simon checked the time on his phone again with a deep sigh, shaking his head. He detested getting to work anything past ten minutes early, and it was currently five past six. Freyja had told him to go ahead and toss their baby bag in the car, which he had done ten minutes ago. He insisted they keep their ‘go-bag’ (her word, not his) with them, either in the car on errands or on base during the work week.

The area around their front door was littered with broken-down cardboard boxes from various toys and furniture from the nursery. The Task Force had turned out to be extremely generous uncles, to the point where the Rileys hardly had to buy anything. Johnny and Gaz were by far the worst listeners, continuing to purchase mountains of clothes long after Freyja and Ghost begged them to stop. Enough clothes that she would never have to wear the same outfit twice for the first year of her life.

Not even born yet and already spoiled rotten.

Her boots weren’t in the tray by the door, so she must have gotten to that part of her routine, at least. He pushed off the door frame in their entryway, making his way toward the living room. “Frey, what are you doin’? We’re already five minutes late–”

He cut himself off when he laid eyes on the sight in front of him – his wife, now 39 weeks pregnant, attempting to contort her body around her bump to lace up her boots. Simon allowed himself a moment to watch in amusement before clearing his throat and grabbing her attention. “Do you need help?” he asked, about to kneel in front of her.

She grunted and shook her head, then tried to smooth the mussed-up fly-aways that had started to poke up at the edges of her tied-back hair. “No, I can do this. I just did it on Friday.”

“Darling, that was three days ago. There’s no shame in askin’ for help–” He stopped again at the icy glare thrown his way, crossed his arms over his chest, and sat in the armchair across from her. “A’right, if you insist.” He had long noticed that she sometimes struggled to accept help with tasks she could normally complete on her own, if not for a protruding bump being in the way. He knew if she really needed help, she would ask.

This time, she propped the heel of her boot on the coffee table and attempted to stretch over her belly. She was proud of the strength and flexibility she had been able to maintain throughout her entire pregnancy, up until now. Not many people could say they could even see their feet this far into their pregnancy, let alone tie their shoes. After another minute of huffing and puffing, fingers just barely unable to graze the laces, she held her foot out to her watchful husband and sighed. “Fine,” she mumbled, crossed arms mimicking his.

He smiled softly under his mask, blue eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he slid to his knees at her feet, pressing the sole into his chest. “Thank you,” he praised, taking his time to focus on doing her shoes up at the tightness she liked to support her ankles, but allow breathing room at her calves. As he finished up the second foot, he heard a quiet sniffle and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

Bloody hell, not the waterworks again…

He gently pushed her legs apart and settled between them, his gloved hands covering and rubbing her knees. “What’s wrong, love?”

Freyja wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then used the neckline of her t-shirt to swipe at her wet cheeks. “Nothing, I’m just annoyed. Feels like I can barely function on my own.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who insisted on working until she’s born.”

“Fuck you.”

“Promise?”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes as she scoffed. 

Ghost pulled his mask up to his nose, just enough to steal a long, soft kiss from her, fingers still gripping her thighs. When they broke apart, he swooped down to press wet kisses on her belly. Freyja put the fabric back in place with deft fingers. “A’right, we sorted?” He smacked her thigh twice when she nodded and offered her hands to help her stand. “Good, you know how I am about bein’ late.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be an early bird like her daddy.”

“Better than always being late like her mum.”

“Low blow, baby. Low blow.”

They made jabs at each other back and forth the entire ride to base (lovingly, of course) and during their walk to their offices, only pausing for the occasional passerby.

~*~

Kyle handed off a steaming mug of tea to Ghost, taking a small sip of his own as they watched the recruits spar with Soap. Most days, the three of them worked with the privates for a few hours, varying from marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, etcetera. Ghost tugged his mask up enough to enjoy his caffeine, the steam dampening the wrinkled fabric.

“How was your weekend, Ghost?”

He hid his subtle smirk behind the cup, the memory of their anniversary evening at the forefront of his mind. Ghost met Gaz’s gaze with a side eye, to which the Sergeant snorted with a throaty chuckle. Gaz fixed the brim of his hat lower to shade his eyes from the sun better. “Shouldn’t have asked,” he said, a bright, cheeky grin on his face. “Change the subject.”

Ghost thought back to that morning, snickering himself and cradling the mug with both hands. “Frey couldn’t tie her boots this morning.” He tried to hide his amusement, he really did. But both men burst into deep laughter, Gaz shamefully covering his eyes with his free hand as he imagined the Captain working around her stomach.

“Bloody hell, poor thing.” When they finally composed themselves, Kyle took a deep breath and wiped a stray tear from his eye. He sighed and placed his now empty mug on the ground, his hands now hanging onto the lip of his tactical vest. The Brit observed the training session, occasionally glancing over at Ghost to gauge his mood. Maybe he should mind his business, but Gaz also wanted to be a good friend to the Rileys. In the end, he decided to take the plunge. “I see it, y’know,” he said, choosing a careful tone.

Simon turned his head fully to shoot him a probing look, urging him to continue.

Gaz sighed to himself. In too deep, now. “Just something I’ve noticed. Seems like she’s done this before, s’all.”

Damn Kyle Garrick and his perceptiveness. How long had the Sergeant been sitting on that thought, watching and observing her mannerisms? Simon stood staring blankly at his companion, unblinking for too long. His heart clenched painfully, twisting and beating violently against his ribs. When his eyes did finally come back into focus, he covered his face again. “As you were, Sergeant,” he commanded, his tone stern and unyielding. Neither of them noticed the Scot break away from the recruits, reading a text from his phone.

“I don’t mean to pry, sir–”

“Lt?” Soap held the device up, brows knotted together. He didn’t make much of an effort to hide his emotions and was concerned. “Price needs ya, sir. Said he’s pretty sure yer wife’s been in labor for the last hour.”

The trio quickly appeared in her office, where she sat behind her desk, beads of sweat on her forehead as she typed away at her computer. John shrugged helplessly and then scratched at the stubble under his chin. About an hour into their daily morning meeting, where he brought her peppermint tea while they worked over files and potential recruits. They were mid-discussing her scheduled c-section when he noticed her breaths sporadically shake, or the muscles in her arms tightening for seemingly no reason. Price asked her if she was okay and was brushed off every time he prodded at her; when he finally had enough, he decided to call for reinforcements.

Freyja glared at the men, mainly aiming it at Price. “Traitor,” she growled, continuing to work through another contraction.

Simon tossed the keys to their car to Price, who swiftly snagged them out of the air and slipped behind them. In the meantime, he tucked his mask into the back pocket of his jeans, his slightly overgrown blonde hair and the top of his head sticking up. He sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at her as she attempted to ignore his presence. His foot slipped a little on the floor, and he found a small puddle trickling across the floor from the space under her chair. “Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, impossibly soft and gentle for a usually deep, gruff military man.

“No.” She was an accomplished sniper and a skilled linguist and had been deployed on hundreds of special missions, interrogations, and rescues during her military tenure. She, however, wasn’t very convincing when it came to lying to her husband, especially when another sharp pain rippled through her body, forcing her to flinch.

“Wanna try that again?”

Her eyes watered uncontrollably, her lip trembling as she tried to keep herself together. The notion didn’t last long, and her head shook from side to side.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Hm.” Simon turned her chair with his shin until she faced him. As he suspected, dark wetness was creeping up the fabric of her jeans. “We should get going then, yeah?” He tilted his head to the side, watching as she grabbed his hand in a fierce grip.

“Simon–” The woman choked on her tears, panic starting to claw its way up her stomach and wrenching her tight throat. “The OB’s out of the country,” she whimpered, barely a whisper.

“I know. Seems that she’s taken after her old man, like y’said,” he offered in an attempt to give her some comedic relief in her state. Simon could see the panic attack set in, and while he knew he couldn’t stop it, he could at least lessen its effects some.

“I was kidding.”

He smiled softly at her and squeezed her palm, drawing soothing circles with his thumb. “Don’t think she’s quite old enough for sarcasm, there, sweetheart.” He got down to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels, just under eye level now instead of towering over her. A familiar position for them as of late. “Looks like we’re doin’ this the old-fashioned way.”

She started crying hysterically now, nearly crushing his hand and cradling her belly. “Simon…I–”

“I know.”

It was as if their audience had completely disappeared, leaving just the two of them for what should be a private moment. But Soap and Gaz were still pressed to the wall by the door. In the months they had become close friends with Simon’s wife, she was almost always composed, her moments of hormonal rage the only outlier they witnessed. They’d never seen her such a panicked, blubbering mess, but Gaz had an idea he knew what it was about, even without specifics. For that reason, he chose to keep his distance and advised Soap to do the same with a tap to the shoulder.

“This–This isn’t the plan. I wanted…they’re supposed to take her out. I don’t want to push again.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to.”

“Can’t we just–” A gasp cut her off, her features pinching together in pain while she rode out yet another contraction.

“No. We can’t.”

“I can’t do this again, Simon! I can’t!” Her chest heaved and she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Panic attacks had become more frequent during her pregnancy. There had been about five or six instances where an odd feeling or uncomfortable pain had anxiety washing over her, sending her into a spiral until they could get to an emergency room or OB, snapping at them to ‘just fucking check, for fuck’s sake’. This was definitely one of the worst. All of her meticulous planning, down to every nitty-gritty detail to ensure she didn’t have an episode went right out the window because a certain impatient Riley was eager to make her exit and simultaneous entrance to the world.

The world was collapsing around her, dark and suffocating. The cold pit dragged her back to what seemed like another life, where she lay curled up in a hospital bed, sick and hot and in the worst agony she would ever experience. Her bones burned and ached, struggling to sit still yet unable to move at the same time. Price’s phantom touch ghosted up and down her bare back in that place, brushed her sticky hair off her forehead, pressed a cold towel to her neck as violent sobs and forced, unnatural contractions tore through her—

She blinked when different, gloved hands slipped under her hair, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the material as he cradled her face. Her fingers slipped down to dig into his tattooed wrist. “You can, and you will. Take a breath,” he took a deep breath, guiding her through the exercise. He held the air in his chest before letting it out in a slow exhale, which she mimicked. Ghost summoned Gaz over and rose, pulling her up with him. “Good girl. Can you walk?”

When she nodded, Kyle slipped into the space beside her, offering his forearm for support. She knew Simon could have handled her himself, but it warmed her heart to see him leaning on their friends. John had been a great support system when Simon deployed on his own, but having so many hands to hold made her feel loved and understood.

“A’right then, let’s have a baby, yeah?”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @lethalchiralium, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[dinozarr]

†⠀❝ LA LUNA ENAMORADA. ❞ ✶ SATORU GOJO !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♱

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀“STREETRACER!GOJO HEADCANONS.”

★⠀warning y disclaimers — fem!reader. streetracer!au. fluff. smut. sexfiend!gojo. pussywhipped. overstimulation. crying. overprotective!gojo. jealous!gojo. voyeurism. begging.

NOTEZ : i’ve had this in my drafts since forever now, but since my mutuals street-racer gojo post is what gave me motivation to actually finish and post it, credit to my bae, t🫶🫶 @satoruhour !! (if y’all saw that name change no u didn’t.)

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀that enjoys having you sit on the hood of his sleekly polished Royal Blue Nissan Skyline R34, admiring how your broad upper body complimented his teams bomber jacket so perfectly. the way you’d gaze up at him with the same mischievous grin, your plump bottom lip pulled between your silver teeth; all of it just had the man practically itching to drag you inside of his car and have at it like a pair of rabid animals. having a girlfriend that was close in height (6’2) to him was never something ‘toru thought he’d enjoy, especially when he favored cute and smaller things. yet, the moment he laid eyes upon you he felt as if he was unable to take them off, allured by your aura alone.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀who makes sure you’re right there by his side at every track call he gets. whether it’s a nightly s-race, or even just a quick little d-race. you’re his prized possession, along with his precious skyline of course, so he wanted both of his babies there any time he claimed yet another awaited victory. no matter how many times he won (which was a sickening amount of times) he always had to have his promised victory kiss from you in front of everyone, his hands (consensually) scrounging your body until they landed on your ass with a slight squeeze, making sure everybody knew that you were his and his alone.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀loves showering you in kisses no matter where you two are. you could be out at the mall shopping for beauty products, or even skin care, and he’d be all up on you like a lost fucking puppy. every step you take and he’s right there behind you, hand in your back pocket while he takes into account of every item you pick up. yes, he has a list of everything you have ever grazed your fingertips against, the man had money and nothing better to do than spend it on the woman he planned on marrying.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀is the literal Webster dictionary definition of jealous. it’s not even funny. the moment he even feels another persons eyes on you he’s pulling you to his hip by your belt loop, a small yelp tumbling it’s way out of your mouth from his abrupt actions. the longing gaze that you give him is paired with a mean-mugging glare while he eyes down the person that dared look in your direction. he knew you were stunning but that didn’t mean other people were allowed to look at what’s his.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀oh, my god, is this motherfucker not only deathly obsessed with you, but he jumps at every chance he gets when it comes to being intimate with you. even though you guys are always all over each other, like i’m talking 24/7 type shit, that didn’t matter because if given the chance he’d stay in bed all day just in your arms. the way his delicate fingers dance along your silky skin sends chills down your back each time, followed with a delighted hum of satisfaction.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀he adores how your tight little cunt squeezes around him every time. the way you scratch and gnaw at his solid pecks causing a profound smirk the glide it’s way across the man’s smug face. there’s nothing more that he loved other than laying beneath you as you rode him dry, enjoying the eye candy that you are and seeing how his over-average dick sent you into spirals. when he wasn’t toying with your breasts, or allowing his hands to caress your body, he was biting his lip and watching as your eyes rolled so far back you swore you could see the afterlife.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀who hated any position where you weren’t looking at him. doggystyle? hell fucking no, over his dead body. reverse cowgirl? he’d have murder on his mind. full nelson? you might as well call the police because someone’s getting killed for even mentioning it. you were his girl so he’d be damned if he wasn’t able to stare at your full beauty while pleasuring you so good that you saw stars. he absolutely loved missionary though. the way he’d roll his hips drastically slow just to watch your legs twitch with his hands tenderly outlining the folds of your pussy.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀who, at some points, has been so eager to feel your walls wrapped around him that he’d make you go to the backseat of his Skyline and you two would be at it for hours. he could give less of a damn if you two were at a track meet, if people were so desperate to see you than they could watch as you bounced on his dick for all he cared. the fully tinted windows were the only modification you demanded he get if he wanted to fuck in his car, and let me tell you. that man got those fucking windows tinted within the next ten minutes, no joke.

STREETRACER!GOJO⠀⟡⠀that loves when you tie him up and make him beg for you. he already worshipped your presence alone, so hearing him beg and cry like some loser who doesn’t get any pussy was just the cherry on top of it all. he especially loved it when you’ve edged him so bad his entire body is twitching like a wind-up kids toy. he loved watching your hands pump his veiny dick, your thumb pressing the tip as he cried behind the gag you put in his mouth. the minute you’d take the gag out though, he was stammering and slurring his words as if he were a drunk white girl wasted off white claws. the tears that coaxed his eyes were nothing more than a victory gift to you, you allowing him to finally let his load out after sliding yourself onto him; nothing but pure enjoyment twinkling in your eyes as he looked up at you while crying like some baby.

NOTEZ : first post to my streetracer!au. any other ones i make for jjk characters will be within the same universe as this one, so be advised. and, enjoy, ofc !

ᶻ z Z ! © TAKST4Z — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

[cinnnamongrl]

sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 3)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: part 3 to this fic. you can find part 2 here.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, top!ellie, bottom!reader, semi-public sex (sexual acts while other people are (unaware) in the room) (i’m sorry) (no i’m not) fingering (r!receiving) dirty talk, praise, bit of degradation, those are your warnings, if u don’t like, click away 🤺

author’s note: part 3 (of 5) ;0 enjoy ;)

three loud raps at ellie’s door. she pulled away and stared at you, mind working. “don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned. “nuh uh, wanna keep kissing you” her mouth was back on yours, quickly falling back into that eager pace. 2 more bangs, even louder “ELLIE!”.

“motherfucker” ellie got up and walked to her door, meanwhile you straightened out your top and tried to position yourself to sit casually on her bed. the door opened and brittney strode in, hand on hip. “you’re not answering your phone.” she stated. “yeah i’m” ellie’s eyes darted towards you, “busy.” brittney looked at you. then looked at ellie. then rolled her eyes. “whatever. theres a mandatory eta event in 15 minutes. fuckin’ emilia was supposed to tell everyone.” “event?” you questioned. “it’s for charity. a car wash…” she seemed hesitant. a car wash doesn’t sound very sorority-like. “a bikini car wash.” there it is. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” ellie spoke. “ugh, don’t get your boxers in a twist, ‘bikini’ isn’t literal, you can keep your fucking nike sports bra on.”

brittney and ellie stared at each other, a silent display of mutual aversion. you shifted uncomfortably on her bed. brittney suddenly moved towards the door, “ok i’m leaving. look at your phone i’ve texted you the details. be there in 15. bye loser” she flipped her hair and left. you almost wondered if she was parodying herself. ellie turned on her heel to face you and you gave her a small smile. “it might be kind of fun?” you offered. she tilted her head to the side with furrowed brows and gave you a half smile, a silent really? you giggled and stood up, “i have to go get changed, i’ll meet you there?” “‘kay” as your hand touched the door handle, ellie’s hand came out to touch your arm and she planted a kiss on your lips, leaving your face warm and a shy smile on your lips.

~~~~~~

ellie was sat in a white plastic chair, her eyes scanning the large campus parking lot for something to injure herself with to get out of this thing. she turned to one of the girls standing by her “what kind of charity is this thing for anyway?” the girl put her finger up to her mouth and pondered for a moment, “like… animals… or something. oh wait no… kids. kids with like… no money and stuff.” then she gave a little smile and turned back around, obviously satisfied with her answer. great. ellie moved to take her phone out to text you but was rendered still when she noticed you walking towards her. you were sporting a small red bikini top that perfectly hugged your boobs and illegally short shorts. ellie tried not to gape but that was made near impossible when you looked like that. she rose from the chair when you reached her, grateful to be out of ear-shot of the other girls.

“you look…” her eyes did a quick up and down of you, “like you’re trying to kill me.” you gave her a bashful smile. the sound of a car pulling in made you both turn your heads, followed by the sound of the obnoxiously loud car radio and mix of various different frat boy sounds. brittney and the others ran towards the car with buckets and sponges, arms up in excitement and ellie looked at you with a look of horror that made you burst out laughing. “c’mon, while they’re distracted” you grabbed her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction of the car wash and behind a wall that separates part of the parking lot. “how long do you think it takes to wash a car?” you asked. ellie poked her head round the wall to look at the others, a scene of scantily clad sorority girls getting more soapy water on themselves than the cars; a view which usually would’ve awoken her inner horny teenage boy, but her mind was focused purely on getting a couple of minutes alone with you.

“the way they’re doing it… we could have a solid half an hour on our hands.” she joked. you leaned your back against the wall, “hm.. i wonder what we could do in half an hour…?” playful tone to your voice. ellie raised her eyebrows and pushed down the various images and thoughts that flooded her head despite knowing you were joking. “wow and i thought you were a nice girl.” she crossed her arms and towered over you slightly. “i am” your voice was small. “oh i don’t know,” she stepped closer “nice sweet girls don’t say things like that.” she teased. you almost felt embarrassed at how much you liked her being able to flip the power and make your cheeks heat and stomach feel fluttery after you’d tried to confidently flirt. she moved her mouth to your ear, “do they?” she whispered, her warm breath on your neck sending shivers through you. before you had time to attempt to form a reply, a car horn beeped and the sound of wheels screeching against tarmac signalled the first car wash was over and the girls would no longer be distracted from your absence.

“c’mon” she took your arm and let you round the corner of the wall back to the car wash area. emilia spotted the two of you walking towards everyone, “you guys where have you been?! there’s a couple cars pulling in now, come help!” in her usual lively manner. one car drove towards you and parked. “ellie come help me clean the front over here!” emilia spoke. britttneys voice called out suddenly, voice laced with irritation “emilia we’re cleaning this one! over HERE!” emilia rolled her eyes and waved bye to you both. ellie lifted her arm to lean against the top of the car “go ahead, then” she nodded her head towards the sponge, bucket and hose with a playful smile. “why me?” you questioned. “well the guy is paying for a bikini car wash and,” she dragged her eyes up your body to make a point “you’re in a bikini.”

“fine.” you might as well make your own fun. you picked up the wet sponge from the bucket and wrung it out, purposely getting most of it down yourself. ‘oops’ you teased, mimicking some seriously low grade porn acting. ellie held in a chuckle and watched you. you dropped the sponge onto the hood of the car and smeared the sponge over it slowly, pushing your chest out slightly and holding eye contact with ellie, trying desperately to keep up the silly character and not burst into cringed laughter. you moved over to where ellie was stood and started washing (a loose term for what you were doing) the car, positioning yourself in front of her and bending over slightly to ‘reach a certain spot’ which conveniently pushed your ass out in front of ellie’s view. ellie snickered, partly because she was entertained, and partly to try and hide the fact that your jokey performance was actually kind of turning her on.

you slowly lowered yourself to grab the hose that was laid on the ground nearby and as soon as it was in your grip you spun around and spayed it over ellie, her pretty face pulled into an expression of shock, eyes darting between you and the soaked clothes on her body. you didn’t get to enjoy the view for long before she was running towards you. you screamed and ran around the car, hose gripped tightly in your hands. she changed directions in a split second and the panic made you lose your speed, allowing her to grab you with both arms and wiggle the hose from your tight grip, spraying it over you as payback. your screams and laughter weren’t lost on the others but both you and ellie were too absorbed in your little playfight to even notice. you went back and fourth fighting for the hose, ending up with you crouched down by the side of the car, arms and legs covering your chest in a ball to secure the hose with you, ellie crouched next to you playfully trying to wiggle her way into your hands, and your cheeks aching slightly from being lifted up in your amusement.

‘yo my fuckin car!’ a man’s voice spoke up from the car. you looked at ellie and burst into laughter, the realisation that you were supposed to be cleaning this guys car, not engaging in a hose fight out of his sight. ellie’s chest felt fluttery watching you laugh and she played it off in her head as the cold wet clothes sticking to her body having some sort of effect on her rather than admit to herself her infatuation already. wanting to make the most of your spot being out of eye sight of the others, ellie took your face in her hands and kissed you, briskly but not without sentiment, and your body relaxed, shoulders dropping and hands unclenching. the sound of an engine starting up pulled you apart and you and ellie stood up as the rightfully unsatisfied customer drove away.

~~~~~~~~

over the past few days a combination of a surprise visit from ellie’s step-mom and your college deadlines meant you and ellie hadn’t got to see each other as much as you wanted. your minimal time spent together consisted of tension-heavy glances across the room at eta meets, holding hands under the table, and kisses that were as passionate as they could be with only 20 seconds given to them before someone entered the room. technology was currently your saving grace.

the eta living room floor had been transformed into a beautiful mess of plush cushions, pink fluffy throws and an assortment of duvets on top of sleeping mats, all positioned around the room with a large tv front and centre. the sleepover was going well; no chad-talk so far, minimal passive aggression between brittney and ellie, and you’d managed to ever-so casually place yourself in the spot on the floor beside ellie, which allowed you to exchange looks between yourselves when one of the girls said something funny, and meant your hands could find each others under the blankets and duvets.

“your step-dad’s kinda hot, britt” one of the girls spoke through loud chews of popcorn “ugh gross, madison, joel’s like 60” madison broke out into an off-key rendition of ‘age aint nothin but a number’ and brittney hit her with a cushion. ellie watched on, disgust obvious on her face at madison’s comment. “so that’s where you get your good looks from, hey?” you joked, voice low enough to miss everyone else’s ears. “i’m adopted.” “oh…” you looked at her, trying to gauge the tone of the admission. she chuckled lightly “don’t worry, i’m not gonna start crying or some shit. my bio parents died when i was young and… joel’s a great guy. he raised me by himself until-” she nodded her head towards brittney who was lost in discussion with the others, “-he married britt’s mom when i was 16.” you nodded your head. she spoke slowly “which was… odd. at first. having to share my space and… my dad, with this high maintenance lady who wanted to transform me into brittney 2” listening to her talk about personal stuff left a urge griping at you to put your arms around her and hold her against you but you pushed down the feeling and just listened. “okay that settles it! magic mike it is.” brittney’s voice called out, bringing you out of yours and ellie’s bubble.

annoyed as you were for having to sit through shirtless men dancing for the past 40 minutes instead of talking to ellie, she found some way to be touching you the whole time which was softening the blow. her finger’s absentmindedly trailing your arm, leg resting against yours, all kept a secret from the others thanks to the pink dotted throw that lay atop both of you. the combination of her gentle touch and her presence next to you was filling you with a peace and sleepiness that made you turn to her and smile. she smiled back and lifted her hands from you to fish for her phone lost in the duvet. she pulled it out, tapped a bit, and locked it again. you looked at her confused for a moment until she gestured for you to check your phone.

your cheeks warmed in shyness and you silently giggled, opening the chat to reply without the worry of the others knowing yours and ellie’s conversation.

ellie put her phone down and you followed suit, letting your eyes focus back on the movie in front of you. ellie resumed her soft touches, her hand coming to rest on your thigh. you registered the conversation being had from the other girls, something about mike and his magic. before you had time to catch up a girl called katie turned to you “so who’s your favourite?” she said with a spark of enthusiasm. you blinked a few times. “my favourite..?” “guy!! from the movie!!” “oh! um…” you looked at the screen in front of you. “…mike.” there was a hum of agreement. pulling you out of your conversation for a moment, you were aware suddenly of ellie’s thumb stroking the skin of your inner thigh. an action that could’ve been innocent or a purposeful tease. ellie’s gaze was stuck on the screen not giving anything away, but regardless of the intent it made your stomach fill with butterflies. you attempted to pay attention to the chatter about channing tatum but ellie’s hand was moving further up your thigh, running circles, finger moving past the area your pyjama shorts were covering. your breath hitched slightly as her finger met the seam of your underwear. she lowered her mouth to your ear,

“you can tell me to stop” she whispered. you swallowed, head feeling fuzzy and body feeling heavy and warm. emilia spoke, voice directed at you “you know who kinda looks like channing tatum… chad!” she grinned wide. amazing timing. all of the girls looked at you, seemingly waiting on a response. “um i guess, haha” you smiled weakly. ellie’s finger was now stroking the cotton of your underwear, purposely avoiding where your body wanted her the most. “god you’re obsessed with him! it’s adorable.” emilia giggled. you managed a small huff of faux laughter. “so what’s your favourite thing about him?” asked madison. your mind was cloudy and did not have the capacity for chad-talk when ellie’s hand was where it was. “i uhm- i like his h-air” ellie ghosted her finger over your clothed clit and you softly cleared your throat to cover up the squeak that left your mouth on the last word of your reply. another little hum of agreement filled the room and you prayed that was the last of your q&a. “he’s got super cute hair.” katie nodded at you and if you weren’t preoccupied with feeling a whole load of other things you would’ve been feeling grateful that your answer was acceptable to the group.

ellie moved to rest her head against her arm propped up by her elbow and faced towards you, hand still under your shorts. “what about his personality? you think he’d be a good boyfriend?” ellie inquired, seeming genuine to everyone else. you looked at her with pleading eyes. she was mean. “s-sure,” ellie dragged her finger up the length of your cunt right up to your clit, where she applied a bit of pressure that made your head dizzy. “he’s f-funny and ni- mmph” ellie started to draw tight little circles, the fabric of your underwear adding to the blissful friction. embarrassment flushed through your body and you hoped to god your little slip up could be passed off as an awkward word jumble. “oh my gooood, you’re getting so shy talking about him! that’s so sweet.” cooed madison. ellie was shamelessly getting off on watching you struggle to pretend to everyone you were obsessed with this chad douche while she was playing with you over your panties, making you a stuttery mess who couldn’t even form basic responses. “i bet he’d treat you real good” ellie spoke, a mock that was only clear to you. “hm?” she expected a response. “mm” you managed, bordering on a whimper. a small part of your brain was worried about how you were coming across to your sorority sisters right now but the larger part was purely consumed with ellie’s perfect movements and the feeling building in your lower stomach as a result. as much as the thought of ellie making you come right here whilst your new friends were in the room scared you, the twisted part of your brain found it heightening your arousal and making your head feel even more fuzzy. the attention was finally off of you, they had switched back to the movie and we’re talking about the scene. you forced your eyes back there as well, too scared to look at ellie. she picked up her pace and your eyes fell shut.

ellie watched your chest rising and falling in quick succession and your teeth biting down on your lip which she was sure you didn’t even realise you were doing. watching you hold back little moans and fail to keep your composure had ellie soaking through her boxers and she squeezed her legs together to try and relieve the ache. she kept her eyes on you, waiting for the signs you were almost reaching your peak. your breathing got quicker and head fell slightly back. just as you felt the coil in your stomach threatening to break, ellie stopped her movements and removed her hand from your shorts. your eyes fluttered back open and you fought hard against a whine that threatened to leave your throat. ellie used the opportunity of the other girls full engagement on the screen to dip down and kiss your shoulder. you looked up at her but she was staring ahead at the screen, little smirk playing against her lips. you wanted to pounce on her, half in a sexual way and half in an angry way. you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows at the screen, a weak attempt at trying to hide how needy and embarrassingly horny you were and instead seem really interested in these half naked male dancers. 5 minutes into your casual act ellie moved a hand to lightly trace lines on the skin of your inner arm. an innocent display but with the unreleased tension that was firing through your whole body, her light touch was making arousal prickle at your skin. “you enjoying the movie?” ellie spoke quietly, a fake sincerity to her voice. “‘mhm.” you replied, eyes not leaving the screen. “seems it” smugness evident in the upturned corner of her mouth.

an hour later the bright glow and animated sounds from the tv were long gone, now the only noise came from the last few late whispered conversations and occasional ruffles from sheets being slept in. you and ellie had spent the hour keeping giggles, chats and flirty teases hushed to a secret volume, bodies laid facing each other. you were still basking in the fuzzy sleepy state ellie had created, but pushing down the neediness seeing as ellie was clearly feeling mean tonight. that pleasurable feeling of relaxed comfortability mixed with giggly excitement that you always got whenever you were with ellie seemed to be heightened in the late night environment of whispers and touches under the covers. the sleepover setting was also prodding you both towards wholesome playful discussions.

“what’s your favourite… food?” you asked, little jump of excitement when you thought of your question. she laughed and her heart did a little jump watching you grin at her. “pizza.” you screwed up your face. “pizza.. so basic.” “oh i’m sorry miss fancy pants should i have said my favourite food is …” she pondered for a half-second “an amuse bouch?” you chest bubbled with laughter and you nudged her playfully “no i just meant that’s what everyone says. and ‘an amuse bouch’ is not a food.” she signed dramatically, the soft orange glow from the only lamp left on contouring the features of her face and it made your heart leap a little at how beautiful you thought she was. “ok my turn,” she started, “what’s your… favourite animal?” you thought for a moment. “bunnies!” “checks out…” she began “you’re like a little bunny.” you pretended to be offended by the comparison “am not. i’m like a scary lion.” she laughed “absolutely not. you’re a cute little baby bunny.” she lightly tapped your nose. “cutest.” you held your bottom lip with your teeth to hide the embarrassed smile that was threatening to surface. “and you know what they say about bunnies?” she teased. “what?” “they fuck like crazy” she laughed at her own comment and her voice threatened to reach normal volume. you hit her on the arm “ellie! the others could hear” you spoke in a desperate hush. “they’re all asleep.” you hadn’t even realised the lack of background chatter for the past few minutes and sure enough you sat up slightly to scan the room and were met only with the still bodies and slow breathing reserved for sleep. you turned back to face her “oh.”

she pulled your body back onto the soft floor where you’d been resting and leaned over you to place a kiss on your mouth. she laid one hand on the floor to prop herself up and the other came to rest on your side. the kiss instantly sparked up the arousal that had been siting vacant in your body for the past hour. she deepened it for a few seconds before pulling away. “i’m going to the bathroom.” she spoke. surprise was evident on your features and she just chuckled lowly and got up out of her ‘bed’ to walk out of the living room, leaving the door open behind her. you sat yourself up. really? after her antics this evening she couldn’t wait even just a few minutes to p- oh. was… that an invitation? surely not. oh my god you freak she’s just peeing. unless..? you wriggled out of the mass of blankets and duvets laying over you and walked towards the door. you reached it and stopped in your tracks, running it over in your head and turning back. 2 seconds later and you decided to turn back around again, walking through the hallway to the bathroom, assuring yourself if she didn’t mean it as a proposition you could play it off as also needing to use the bathroom. you reached the closed door and stood in front of it feeling slightly embarrassed. you turned your head towards the direction you just came from, getting ready to sneak back, when the door opened suddenly.

she looked at you and raised her arm to rest on the door frame. just like she’d done the last time you found yourself in a vulnerable position in this very bathroom. but this time she didn’t talk, she just grabbed your waist with her free hand and turned you into the room, shutting the door behind her and placing you against it. and then she was kissing you, desperate and eager and you were grateful for her holding you otherwise you thought you might’ve melted onto the floor. her hands dipped under your top and her fingers traced the skin under your boobs. “ellie” you breathed out, clouded mind and sleepiness taking away any filter, mouth moving on its own terms. “this ok?” she asked. “mmhm” you nodded desperately. “more” you pleaded quietly. “manners, pretty girl.” she instructed. “more, please ellie” you whispered. “good girl” her mouth was back on yours as her hands lifted under your top, giving a light squeeze to your boobs and rolling her thumbs over your hardened nipples. you let out a little moan into her mouth and she groaned softly.

“brittney has this thing,” ellie started to speak breathlessly between kisses, “where she-” kiss “-wakes up to pee-“ kiss. your mind wondered where this could possibly lead to information important enough to interrupt this, “at pretty much exactly-“ kiss “-12 each morning” kiss. you held her face and looked at her “what?” she looked up at the little decorative silver clock resting on a cabinet in the bathroom “it’s 11:50.” she went back to kissing you, tongue meeting yours, emptying everything from your brain. she lowered a hand to your lower tummy and ran her finger along the waistband of your pyjama shorts. ellie looked down at them. white with tiny frills at the hem.

“i like these” she told you, lifting the elastic and letting it snap lightly back against your skin. you chewed on your bottom lip, shy smile on your face. she kissed you again, a little slower this time, teasing you despite how insanely desperate she was herself. she let her hand dip under your shorts and ran her fingers over your panties again, feeling the patch of wetness where your pussy met the cotton. she smiled into your kiss “you’re dripping.” your face was burning and all you managed to reply was a little huff. “so cute” she teased, all the while knowing she was just as, if not more wet under her own underwear. she moved your panties to the side and dipped a finger into your folds, trying desperately to hold back a groan. she brought your wetness up to your clit with her thumb and a moan was pulled from your throat. she rubbed little circles, making your mouth drop open slightly and grip onto her arms. “there you go” she cooed.

just as you were growing used to the feeling you felt her finger at your entrance and you gasped lightly. “you want it?” she asked. the thought of more stimulation than she was giving you already made you feel dizzy. “yes” you breathed out. “beg for it.” she demanded, a bold choice with the time limit you were on. “please ellie i need it. need you inside, please” ellie thought her legs might give out. she obliged, filling you up with one finger and beginning to move, “squeezing me so tight baby”. you whimpered in response, head full of nothing but the hot pleasure your body was feeling. your breathing was starting to get heavier again and you squeezed your eyes tight. “so close already. ‘s that because of earlier?” she taunted. you shook your head yes. she chuckled mockingly “such a little slut letting me touch you while your friends were talking to you. bet it made you so wet didn’t it? knowing they had no idea i was playing with your little pussy the whole time” a pathetic whine left your throat and she grabbed your jaw with her free hand “answer me.” “yes ellie” your voice came out shaky.

“think you can take more, baby?” you nodded, willing to take anything she gave you. “such a good girl” she praised and it heightened the pleasurable submissive fuzz your head was swimming with. she added another finger and the fullness made your jaw go slack, a succession of little whimpers and moans leaving your mouth. ellie was watching you in awe, your face a beautiful display of full pleasure and the pretty sounds coming from your mouth made her stomach flip. “so pretty” she muttered, almost to herself. your release was fast approaching you, hands gripping ellie tight. “you gonna come, pretty girl?” ellie cooed. “m g’nna come” you confirmed in a whimper. “come for me angel,” your orgasm hit you and you clenched down hard around her “that’s it baby, come on my fingers” she murmured as you came undone, body shaking from the pleasure and leaving you limp, held up only by ellie. your mind was coming back into focus as you noticed ellie leaving little kisses on your shoulder, up to your collarbone, neck and jaw. you looked at her and she looked up at you and smiled. you rested against the door catching your breath. she took your hand and spoke softly, “brittney.” “huh?” your mind not quite catching up yet. “it’s nearly 12.” she gestured to the clock. “oh!”. you let her guide you back to the living room, feet moving slowly to avoid loud creaks.

~~~~~~~~

walking into the sorority main room a high pitched squeal caught your attention. you scanned the room quickly to find ellie and you have her a little wave. emilia came running towards you and dragged you towards where everyone else was. “so…” she started “since you gushed about chad so much at the sleepover the other night-“ your stomach dropped. “-i took it upon myself to set you guys up!” she grinned at you expectantly. you didn’t speak. “don’t be nervous! it’s tonight at the tipsy bison bar but don’t worry, we’ll all be there too and he’s bringing his friends.” she beamed. “right girls?” she spoke to the others. a jumble of ‘yeah!’‘s and ‘of course!’‘s. brittney didn’t say a word. neither did ellie.

part 4

tag list @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @nil-eena @alexpritch @robinismywifee @girlfr1endism @sc0ttstre3ted (sorry i don’t know why some blogs won’t tag;(( ) happy to add people to the taglist but i can’t tag you if you don’t have your age in your bio!! my blog is 18+ !!

[aphidclan-clangen]

Do you have any tips on how to design a sparklecat, Like any inspiration or ideas for it.

Oh man, hm. I usually just freestyle it so let me think

The thing is, AphidClan designs are like. My least professional designs that I have lol, so I can’t really give you classic Actual Professional Character Design Technique Advice because if you followed the professional advice, you would probably not be producing anything that looks like Aphidclan designs lmao, you’d be making much better shit. But you guys want Aphidclan specifically, you guys want how I do it! So I’m gonna try to give you guys,,,whatever advice I can scrounge up from the shit that I do specifically! And like break down what my thought process is into tips?? Anyway

My biggest tip has gotta be Pick An Aesthetic. You don’t have to do this, but it’ll help narrow things down significantly. An aesthetic, a theme, etc. All my best designs for the comic that I get the most compliments on have specific theming, and all the character designs of mine I personally grew to…strongly dislike, were characters WITHOUT any theming, like Gravel’s old design for example. It was all just purple and more dark purple but slightly desaturated, and there wasn’t any direction to it at all, because that’s what happens sometimes when you make shit up on the spot and go with your first draft lmao. Blisswhistle’s theme is rainbow, Pearlstar had a sort of cotton candy unicorncore vibe, Gravel’s new look has a punk aesthetic, Shadebreak and Goldshine are famously emo, etc. Pick a theme! It’ll help!

Right now I’m trying to create Toyhouse profiles for everyone in Aphidclan, and it is a bit of a nightmare trying to figure out what to do for the members of the cast that don’t have a theme. I really really need to give Firebeetle a theme and redesign him with it in mind to give him a design that actually looks good because it’s driving me BATSHIT how directionless he is rn it’s really pissing me off. I’m thinking vaporwave neon cyberpunk shit…

DETOUR TIP FOR GENERAL COMIC-MAKING: Don’t always stick with just your first draft before jumping into comic production! A character may look real nice, but you don’t know what it’s gonna be like to have to draw that same design over and over and over and over and over and over and over again forever! A good way to test this is to take a sketch sheet and, as quickly as you can, draw that character as many times as you can! Draw them like 20 times, 30 times, just 5 or 10 can be pretty dang enlightening on its own. You’ll find yourself dropping certain details, agonizing over the more complicated markings, wishing to get rid of certain accessories, adding new features that come more naturally to you, and more! Take note of those natural changes and make edits accordingly 👍 ((psst: have you noticed that Gravel’s concept art shows her depicted with golden earrings? when was the last time I drew those motherfuckers. it happens🤷‍♂️))

Narrowing down your aesthetic will also help with picking accessories or pivotal details that are related to the theme you chose. If your character has a strawberry theme, you now can give them like a strawberry marking on their chest, or narrow it down to be based on Strawberry Shortcake specifically for nostalgia points, so you can give them the strawberry hat and green-and-white striped leg markings, or leggings. If they’re scenecore, you can give them scenemo hair, or kandi bracelets—have you noticed that Shadebreak has markings that look like fishnet gloves? This is because I wore those bad bitches all the time throughout my emo era in highschool. It’ll make it easier to decide what your markings will be, basically

~~ peruse my collection of my best designs below ((none of these are Aphidclan characters though sadly)) ~~

(Virus, the third one, is directly based on the You Are An Idiot computer virus!)

I may not be a professional over here, but I still believe one of the main things that’s always super important about character design is intention. Intention makes the best character designs. Ideally, you want to be completely clear about what exactly you want to convey to the audience about a character. The audience should know exactly what to expect from your character at first glance. Their base personality, whether or not you want them to think they’re a villain, or a good guy, or a background character, or somewhere morally gray and conflicted. Their style, their themes, their age, their goal, their hobbies and passions, what they do for a living, what they’ve been through, why they’re here, their culture, the time period they live in, their status in society, anything and everything that is relevant to their character. Are they tough and rugged and been through some real shit? Are they dainty and flowery and feminine? Are they a princess, or are they a peasant? Are they a thief, a rogue, or an enforcer of the law? Could a stranger tell any of this just by looking at them?

Warrior cats isn’t a series where a lot of intention can be utilized, since we’re only working with cats. I have seen some warriors artists really master visual storytelling in their warriors designs alone, but usually you have to get really fuckin cool with dynamic shape language in order to do that, and I’m nowhere near that level yet with my own shape language lol. Instead, I try to utilize intention in other ways.

Berrykit has very round fur tufts. This is to show that she’s soft, she’s approachable, she’s cute and harmless (presently. …mostly.) But Nimblekit’s fur is jagged and sharp, he’s COVERED in sharp angles all the time, to communicate that he’s edgy!! He’s snippy and snarky and reckless and chaotic!! He’ll getcha!! ((Berrykit’s curly fur is also to make her look more similar to Blisswhistle as her half-sister!)) I also use these fur tufts to make heart shapes in her fur, like her heart-shaped ear tufts, to further drive home her lovecore theming! Stormwhisper has round fur tufts to look more like a cloud, Icesheep has sharp tufts to make him look more like an icicle, etc etc list goes on

Virus has devilish horns and tail to communicate he’s impish and gonna get ya, Lemon Wash has scale markings to communicate the sharky oceanic theming, be intentional!! That’s the fun of sparklecats, there’s more room to play with! You can give your strawberry shortcake cat strawberry markings ! You can give your care bear based sparklecat a funny symbol on their big squishy belly! You can still tell a purpose with their markings and accessories! Intention intention intention, drill it in!!

uhh that’s all I have today. tired now. Good luck! and have fun and all that

[bringcal]

This was inspired due to wolfertinger666's post I've just reblogged, and will be a long one, but bare with me here.

I been on the internet like way too long and too young for my age, and I never understood spreading callouts. I don't think I ever have in my life. Before I even understood them as a tool used to socially kill trans people and push an agenda of anti-queerness, I always just thought the contents tended to be stupid, and vast majority of callouts often like to use different manipulation and deception tactics that the average person can easily be manipulated by. I think most abuse survivors can agree with me here that they have at least seen one callout in their lives where they have read and easily recognized what the person spreading the callout was doing was emotional manipulation.

I have always been that person who reaches out to the person subject of the callout to help them, and I've always been disgusted in the anti-critical thinking and pro-harassment sentiments surrounding callouts, because those are the exact same things that I've been subject to after being in an abusive relationship online.

When I talk to people victims of callouts, they often have the same fears as I do due to me being in an abusive relationship: Paranoia people are stalking you, not feeling safe to share anything, having to change identities to get away from the harassment, etc. And thats because people who make callouts and create harassment mobs use the same abuse tactics. I had to delete all my accounts, change names, interests, and stay off the internet for months to try and get away from my abuser, because he would stalk me and get others to do the same, and convinced everyone that I was the one being shitty. I stayed paranoid, and sometimes still do, that I will be "found" and messaged again even though its been 6 years since we broke up.

When you have experience yourself in this sort of thing, you realize people who change their identities to get away from callouts aren't trying to "get away" due to nefarious reasons. they just want to live and grow, they want an actual support system and to be better, and never consented to their faults being publicized, and a lot of the time their faults being put on them have never even happened, or are blown out of proportion. It started to click when you realize callouts often try their best to dehumanize the person at hand, and really try to hammer in the " born inherently evil" or "too far gone" point to get people to socially outcast their victims. It often works even with people who would normally be against that sort of thing, I notice a lot of people end up deleting the callout they helped spread later saying they don't actually care or realize how ridiculous the op is being, without realizing the op still got what they wanted. Callouts only spread if theyre able to get you to that " reactionary " level of emotion to manipulate you to just doing anything.

People don't realize that the thing theyre doing actually has lasting effects on the other person. The thing you reblog that you care about for 2 days and then forget will follow the other person forever, because TERFs and Kiwifarms motherfuckers are a different breed of passionate for harassment. My IRL bestfriend I've known for a decade has a girlfriend who made a joke 6 years ago that went viral that everyone took seriously and she still, to this day, gets messages harassing her. The joke wasnt even offensive or directed at anyone, people literally just hated her because she was a communist.

So anyways, I don't like callout posts and neither should you. Make no exception. Literally just keep it to yourself and gossip with friends. Reactionary harassment campaigns do nothing. You're one "fuck up" or one "walking into the wrong person" to getting one yourself. Don't allow callout makers to turn your brain off.

[bookwormbynight]

The idea behind this fanfic (Null Hypothesis) has fucking grabbed me by the balls guys this motherfucker set off my ryulawlight spiral.

Now, the author has gone in a very different direction than my mind went (more power to em, we're not all Light-obsessed freaks lmao). The main ship is Ryuk/L and Light is only technically involved by both character's shared histories with him which brought them together in the first place. Light has fucked off elsewhere to get comphet married to Misa as the author put it. Poor Light 😭😭 If where that's going interests you, please go check it out because the first chapter is well-written and seems like some pretty good set-up.

Here's what my brain did: saw this in the summary (which hasn't been changed with the author's redrafting as far as I can tell? mayhaps I'm misinterpreting) and went O_O

Guys. If you fucking combined this premise?? With the timeline of my Yotsuba arc headcanons (compiled in Looking For Heaven, Found the Devil In Me)?? And that one post I made where I lamented the fact that that L didn't just fucking burn the notebook?? Hhhhhhhh I'm so mad this fic only exists in my head I would like to read it so much 😭😭

L gets a confession or some shit, finds the other notebook, sends Light off, and burns both death notes, but not before Ryuk is like "oh shit notebook ownership" and comes down to earth JUST in time to watch him do it, which surprises him enough that he drops his own death note on accident and now he's trapped because L snatches it up. L owns his notebook. So he can't kill him and he's stuck following this motherfucker around. In the meantime, Light's memories are permanently destroyed (unless?)

L and Light are sort-of exes but also sort of not bc their relationship was never official, Light breaks it off IMMEDIATELY with Misa because he now has literally zero reason in his head that he should possibly stay with her (I'm sure that would cause fallout too more plot Misa gets a character arc?? Villain arc to redemption and self-acceptance arc?? God I want that for her let her be evil and then let her realize boys are overrated and she's kickass all by herself). L's like 👉👈 well I'm staying in Japan for now 🥺 if u want to have sex again 🥺🥺 and maybe we could go on a real date 🥺🥺? For mixed reasons - a good chunk is just that he would like to and another driving factor as opposed to just letting it go is he and Ryuk are NOT getting along and he is AWARE of how Ryuk feels about Light. Ryuk would be screaming and might (probably will) cause invisible shinigami shenanigans. Light would kinda (really) like to take L up on his offer but their relationship is also hindered by his own trauma that L fucking caused and also he's Very Concerned because Light ALREADY had suspicions that he might be Kira against all of his hopes BEFORE they found the notebook and all of a sudden the case is just resolved and he's totally off the hook and he can tell Something Happened but L just keeps insisting "no no, no Kira here don't worry Light you are not Kira :)". It would be setting off so many alarm bells for him. All of these plot threads weave together and resolve themselves in a satisfying way that I can't discover by reading for myself because it doesn't fucking exist. I need sleep and help.

Edit: Y'all the original author is on Tumblr! @main-exam

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-01 continued #2

(Previous post - current page 433)

==>

Time to see what these Satyrs are about--

We're drawing it out for appropriate drama here, I see.

(Whoa, Terezi's saliva is TEAL?!? Interesting. That's a fact that I will absolutely file away in my mind to remember forever for definitely no specific reason whatsoever.)

==>

T4ST3S L1K3 HORS3SH1T.

Oh nooooo!! Don't tell me they're disappointing! (Or perhaps even a red herring, and not even successfully the race that ends up playing the game as they'd planned??) ...Let's hope it's just Pyrope's opinion...

(I highly doubt it, but imagine if Rose successfully created a race of motherfucking Squiddles to throw against Dirk in the contest.)

==>

OH DAMMIT THEY'RE HOLDING OUT ON US!!! Dastards!

TT: I heard that. GC: OH MY GOD 1 DON'T C4R3 TT: I can smell what you smell. Taste what you taste. Nothing you do is unknown to me, really.

Ewww, dammit. Stop trying to outdo Doc Scratch in creepiness, Ultimate Dork.

TT: Speaking of, if you think I'm not wise to your subtle little scheme, think again. GC: WOW K1NG, YOU 4R3 SO POW3RFUL, HOW D1D H3 T4ST3? TT: Pretty bland. GC: OH? TH3N HOW 4BOUT-

WHOA WAIT, what the heck are they talking about?!? Terezi has a scheme, and it's a "him"?? Or Dirk THINKS it's a "him"?

Hmmm... I originally thought this was a scheme about reawakening Rose to awareness or temporarily freeing him from Dirk's control to see what he'd done to her, just because that's the obvious Seer of Mind subterfuge that would have been going on here, but... Terezi's scheme possibly involves CREATING someone?

"HOW D1D H3 T4ST3"? Who?! Was "H3" being hidden in the now-empty "Terezi's weird horse shaped bug snacks" jar?

Did Dirk really bring John's cryo'd dead body here (I thought she'd brought it in the wallet, I forget, he was clearly hiding something he tried to keep Terezi from remembering when she smelled it), Terezi discovered it again, and then Terezi might be possibly using the life-creation machine or assembling robotics to make a new body for the Meat timeline's JOHN to come back??? Was the comeback to "HOW D1D H3 T4ST3" about to be "OH? TH3N HOW 4BOUT H3R" because she'd be brought back as June???? ...No, that feels too early, not something they'd be talking about so casually... is it?

It's more likely that Terezi is responsible for trying to create the Carapacian race to throw into the mix if we're going for the session that seeded all other sessions, right, something she'd have made to throw in to Rose and Dirk's 'duel' to screw with the session or give it a scale's balance? Carapacians would be extremely "bland" to Dirk, right? They're practically designed to be!

For some reason, though, Dirk potentially calling the concept of a returned John "bland" feels really on-point though... John was always a character who could be mistaken for a generic reader-projection protagonist but whose personality and talents really shined through his effects in conversation with others which made conversations where John was involved some of the most entertaining in all of Homestuck. Dirk would ALWAYS underestimate that sort of protagonist, an Heir always following the whims and Directions given to him by others, who sparks subtle change and inspiration in others not purely for his own sake but by hardly even trying and just kidding around with them or believing in them.

Let me stop with the wild baseless speculation and get to the rest of this conversation to see if it's clarified in only a couple of lines.

TT: You're wearing the more sensible outfit I alchemized for you. TT: That tastes like victory. GC: NOT B3C4US3 YOU M4D3 1T FOR M3 GC: 1 L1K3D MY OLD OUTF1T F1N3, 1 L1K3D TH3 COLORS GC: HON3STLY, 1 THOUGHT TH1S W4S 4 JOK3 GC: 3V3NTU4LLY TH3 OUTF1T P1L3 JUST K33PS G3TT1NG SM4LL3R, UNT1L F1N4LLY... GC: JOK3S OV3R

Dammit, he's put her in Lil Cal suspenders!!! Asshole.

I do notice, yet again, the red heels still much like the ones she borrowed from the Witch of Space Jade though-- which when she wore them back in original Homestuck after Game Over, signified a Witch of Heart balance that she used to force John's character back on the right track and perform her final acts of that timeline to arrange a course correction to reverse Vriska's death and save causality. Or at least, that's what I interpreted at the time-- hints at her inverse role and how she both employed it a bit to shout John back into control of his true self and to represent a final balance to achieve the heights of her Seer of Mind role with her whole-timeline-spanning retcon assistance. To ascend, one must first descend, and all that Jungian such.

TT: You looked like shit. GC: 4 TRULY BOLD ST4T3M3NT FOR SOM3ON3 CURR3NTLY DR3SS3D L1K3 4 L1TTL3 L4D W1TH 4N 4N1M3 C4P3 TT: I'm not dressed like a little lad. GC: YOU 4R3 DR3SS3D L1K3 4 L1TTL3 L4D WHO LOV3S B3RR13S 4ND CR34M BUT ST1LL F1NDS T1M3 1N H1S P4CK3D SCH3DUL3 TO SHOP 4T TH3 M4LL GC: "OHOHOHO~ HOW 1 DO LOV3 MY B3RR13S 4ND CR34M D3SU N3" GC: TH4T'S YOU, TH4T'S WH4T YOU SOUND L1K3 R1GHT NOW 1 B3T TT: How would you know what I'm wearing right now? TT: Maybe I'm posted up in a tank top and jeans. TT: That'd be pretty classic. GC: YOU W34R YOUR PR3C1OUS L1TTL3 M4ROON K4R4T3 LORDL1NG OUTF1T B4S1C4LLY 3V3RY D4Y, 1 KNOW TH1S TO B3 TRU3, 1T'S TH3 ONLY FUN TH1NG 4BOUT YOU 4NYMOR3

Terezi really tearing him down modern-weeb-mockery style for his candy-ass outfit, damn.

TT: I don't have the time to tell you how wrong you are about this, but I will. GC: 1 GU3SS T1M3 1S MOR3 YOUR BROTH3R'S TH1NG, 1SN'T 1T? GC: >:? GC: 1 WOND3R WH4T H3'S DO1NG R1GHT NOW

Does Terezi know that bringing up Dave perhaps really bothers him? Dirk definitely doesn't NOT care about Dave. He wants to get his way at almost all costs, but I don't think he wants Strider's life to be one of those costs, even though Dave is on his way here to oppose him.

==>

Heheheh, the way that all filled in and she sniped right back against his narrative powers was really fun. I love how she can at least MOSTLY resist his narrative powers-- possibly even more than he thinks she can, the way he believes (and we believed) he successfully directed her away from that mystery hidden on their ship way earlier. That reminds me, Terezi kept talking about this earlier as an INVESTIGATION. Is she trying to figure out what Dirk is up to? Are her creations or whatever he deemed "bland" part of her "subtle little scheme" to figure things out somehow, not just interfere with what she already knows to be true?

Also, the way Dirk uses the word "unascended" here implies the key difference is "not God-Tier", that a God-Tier Seer of Mind might have had the ability to possibly not just see further but RESIST Dirk's control even more, which would make plenty of sense. If there exists any sort of Mind aspect Quest Crypt in the new session Dirk and Rose are trying to create, perhaps ascension is a tactic she can actually take? In fact--

KARKAT is coming along too, and we still don't know if his blood caste has a lifespan issue that would cut his relationship with Dave Strider a lot shorter than they want. Could a BLOOD Quest Crypt for Karkat's use end up in this new session too? A Space crypt is obligatory as well, just about ANY session would have a Space player and Kanaya could hijack that crypt to ascend... Could the new session be an opportunity for the remaining trolls to go God-Tier, allowing the readers to finally see some magic Blood powers in action once and for all instead of the normal Knight of Blood talents latent in his personality (which have still had a major impact on the plot, to be sure)?

In Kanaya's case... that also makes it seem likely that as a seamstress and a god-tier Sylph of Space, she could MEND THE HOLE IN EXISTENCE that the Black Hole's creation punched through, cycling an emptied-out Paradox Space right back to its very creation and sealing the escapees of the Black Hole outside of Paradox Space, free from Lord English forever:

UU: it is the day whereafter the legendary octet of mUtUal progenitoriety will come together and heal a great breach in paradox space.

But enough about that for now. It looks like Terezi is leveraging the PERSONALITY part of her Seer of Mind powers potentially successfully on Dirk: Taunting and provoking and annoying him into doing what he wants her to do, and potentially switching the narrative over to show us more Dave.

T3LL M3.

Dirk Strider you ass!!!!!

Also yeah we're STILL not gonna see what his Satyrs look like after all, not for a little while. Or if they'll end up being a red herring and not being the main participants of the session at all.

OH AND ALSO I FORGOT TO BRING UP SOMETHING IMPORTANT-- one of the creations these folks might be responsible for if this is the sort of Omega Session that creates the framework of Sburb and all other sessions might be the Denizens, too. I should keep an eye out for that potentiality.

==>

TEREZI: H3H3H3 TEREZI: D1D YOU S33 TH4T? TEREZI: NOBODY WR1T3S MY STORY BUT M3

Oh my god NOOOO I'D FORGOTTEN CAUSE IT'D BEEN SO LONG, TEREZI'S BEEN HAVING THESE CONVERSATIONS WITH THE DEAD JOHN CORPSE STORED IN THE WALLET AAAAAAH THAT'S SO SAD D': D': D':

...and since the corpse is still in her hands, REALLY raises the chance that she's trying to revive him, that the John in her wallet is the "subtle little scheme" that Dirk is alluding to, and why she immediately responded with "how did he taste" and he responded bland. That's suddenly the most plausible explanation for all of this.

Could she be... planning on ectobiologizing... a kid with him...? No, no fucking way, she's not THAT crazy about him is she?

Also that's a banger fucking declaration of a line at the end there from Terezi against all of Dirk's narrative horseshit, I love that for her.

==>

TEREZI: 4ND TH1S T1M3 1'LL G3T 1T R1GHT

John's corpse is just IN there still, isn't it? No cryo or preservation or anything, right? That's unsettling. It's been or going to have been a full year of travel and arrival here or more, right, before she can do something with it? I forget the exact timeline. Pretty in-character for the morbid Terezi to be this audibly familiar with and carry around a corpse, though.

...do God-Tier corpses not decay at all? I remember a joke about that being in ONE recent bonus HS^2 joke panel I got notified in my Patreon about and glanced at without thinking about it, showing [SPOILER]young alt!Callie-possessed Jade's corpse[/SPOILER] as if her spirit suddenly left it temporarily, though I'm trying my best not to think about what it means.

I have to go to bed early for something in the morning, we didn't get as far as I wanted but I'll take a break for now and will probably continue sometime in the next two days. Next time we'll hit the next link for Meanwhile...

[violetmuses]

Tough Days - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Tough Days - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Main Storyline: Former criminal Armando Aretas and Detective Marcus Burnett try to build their unexpected relationship. 🏷 @adoresmiles

====

2024

Though facing many questions or encountering different secrets over time, famous detective Mike Lowrey would now stand up as the biological father of previous criminal Armando Aretas.

Because the Miami Police Department handled operations, even Mike's longtime partner and best friend Marcus Burnett crossed Aretas as well.

After hiding overseas and safely returning to Miami, Florida, Armando would stay at home with Mike, but continued helping the known precinct.

_____

“Are you still mad at me about the campfire thing?” Marcus leaned toward Armando from his desk.

“No, but you talk too much.” Aretas took Skittles from Marcus without looking and veiled the candy

“Hey!” Upon realization, Marcus glanced around for sweets. “Can't let me enjoy shit, just like your father.”

Tossing the candy to Mike, Armando jutted his chin and headed to the briefing room.

“Catch up with your nephew right now before I call Theresa over the junk food.” Mike arched his brow toward Marcus and even mentioned Burnett's wife Theresa.

“Really, man?” Marcus immediately defends himself while trailing everyone inside.

“Go.” Mike clenched his teeth. “You survived the heart attack, but you're still my brother.”

“I know.” Sitting down, Marcus and Mike prepared themselves for work as usual. “How's Armando doing?”

“Ask him yourself. Are you scared?” Mike nearly chuckled.

“Hell no. He just doesn't express himself.” Marcus told the truth.

Armando's still learning.” Lowrey responded back this time around, sipping coffee. “Let's focus.”

“Fine.” Marcus stopped playing around while looking forward. Captain Rita Secada stands behind the podium and heads this meeting.

Another hustle is coming up. Burnett thought.

____

“Why do y'all always put Armando near the clubs?” Marcus reviewed files of their next case.

“Even I can't go anymore.” Mike answered Marcus. “Times have changed, man.”

“So we're old now?” Marcus squinted toward his best friend.

“To be honest, yeah.” Mike shrugged. “And let's just say that Armando has a better chance of catching these fools.”

“How can Armando work better than us? We've been in the game for years, Mike.” Marcus glanced between Lowrey and Aretas, curious.

“No suspicion.” Mike cleared his throat. “If you and I step foot anywhere, folks start running before we can even question people.”

“But I still don't like what's happening.” Marcus vented. “Every time we go out like that, Armando pulls some charm and he ends up getting phone numbers.”

“Networks.” Mike nodded. “It's a distraction to reach the criminals before we swarm everything.”

“Yeah, right.” Marcus casted both eyes toward the ceiling. “You're just putting Armando outside for no reason at this point.”

“I won't leave. It's still work.”Aretas finally spoke up and chime in.

“You don't even talk to the ladies, man.” Marcus judged Aretas.

“Hey, that's none of your business” Mike warned Marcus over boundaries as usual.

“It is. We haven't met anyone.” Marcus shook his head. “I want another case. Talk to Rita.”

“Shut up, man.” Mike planned to keep going, but radio signals buzzed around the precinct.

“There's a chase, let's go.” Armando revealed slightly accented English and stood up, grabbing car keys.

Given no other option, Mike and Marcus hustled to follow Aretas.

_____

“I know damn-well that Mike never taught you how to drive!” Marcus worried from the passenger seat. “Slow down, Armando.”

“Not now. Please!” Aretas punched the gas while speeding regardless. Sirens wailed in all directions this afternoon.

“Shit!” Marcus just kept yelling. “Is this motherfucker driving the Batmobile?”

“Lamborghini.” Armando name-dropped the vehicle in pursuit.

When the Lambo turned, Armando caught this chance right away and immediately stopped driving.

“Freeze!” Marcus and Armando yelled together while the AMMO squad gathered near this big-time car.

“Don't touch me, pig!” This criminal shouted once Mike handcuffed him, but Armando lowered his gun.

“Zway?” Armando then narrowed his eyes past the Florida sun.

“Hey, help me out, man! I can hook you up right now.” Zway Rodriguez lived.

“Nah, you still get on my nerves, Zway. Take him to the station.” Armando nodded to Mike once more.

“How the hell is Zway still breathing?” Marcus stood flabbergasted. “We torched his ass!”

“No.” Armando corrected. “Zway dropped from my helicopter like Mike, but I didn't know what happened afterwards until now.”

“Damn.” Marcus returned to their car. “Do you think Zway connects our new case here?”

“We'll see.” This time, Armando started driving without trouble and headed back to the precinct.

_____

By nightfall, bright lights painted almost every corner of South Beach once more.

“All jokes aside, how are you doing?” Marcus and Armando joined the back of this limousine.

“Better, I guess.” Aretas tried. “I'm not running anymore.”

“Of course not.” Marcus then revealed more truth here. “Shit might be difficult for a while, but we got your back now.”

“Thanks.” Armando nodded, ready to handle business.

“We look good, but don't act up tonight. I'm still around.” Marcus glanced near Armando before entering the club.

Ignoring Marcus, Armando recognized security first.

“Sup, man?” One guard dapped up Aretas while standing between overhead neon lights. “What are you doing with Burnett?”

“It's another case.” Armando whispered. Even Marcus nodded, impressed.

“Damn.” That guard shook his head. “Who's the culprit now?”

“Where's Spark? I need to catch him before the drop hits.” This large-scale supply of drugs would funnel Miami soon.

“VIP waiting on our second floor. Get his ass, all right?” The guard pointed, leading directions for Armando and Marcus.

“Got it.” Aretas took charge and Marcus followed, ready.

______

“That's Spark? He's not special.” Marcus chuckled near Armando.

Spark wore this knockoff designer outfit as people gathered around the VIP section.

“The Aretas legacy is thriving. Hello…” Spark barely introduced himself before yelling woke up this venue.

“Hands up!” The AMMO squad pulled up once more, led by Mike and Rita.

_______

Sooner than later, red and blue overcasts brightened Miami.

At long last, Spark met the patrol vehicles for his crimes and another righteous bust threw down.

“Good job, Armando, but I still have a question for you.” Marcus asked.

“Yeah?” Aretas looked toward Burnett.

“Are you ever coming by the house? We don't bite.” Marcus invited Armando to see his family.

“Maybe.” Aretas shrugged and left the scene with Mike as Marcus returned home.

Progress is better than nothing.

[throughparisallthroughrome]

"In Darkness, We Transcend"

Chapter 4: Yes, Chef!

Series Description: In a mission gone wrong, Obi-Wan has vanished. It’s up to Anakin to find the ex-Jedi turned Michelin star chef who may know where he is. To say they don’t exactly get along would be an understatement. But with a shared goal, who knows what’s possible?

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes

A/N: I got COVID a week ago and writing this chapter has been ROUGH to say the least. Not my best writing towards the end but I'm really excited for where this is going! This is one of the longer chapters but everything here is extremely important. PS the picture below is exactly how I imagine the entrance to the restaurant looking!!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

“Yeah, ‘oh fuck’ is right!” You furrow your brows in confusion, entering the room and walking over to Eric, “What the fuck is wrong with you!” You give him a slight shove, Anakin’s eyes widening at your sudden reaction and presence. 

“Y/N-” Anakin starts, walking over towards you with his hands up reassuringly. You turn to face him, eyes wide and filled with rage. 

“Anakin, do you ever learn to shut the fuck up? Now is definitely not the fucking time.” 

You turn your attention back to Eric, shaking him slightly to avoid the tears behind your eyes from streaming down your cheeks once again. You had one panic attack, and now you were presented with another. A new, scarier, different panic attack, one you never thought you’d had to confront until your world came crashing down upon you earlier as you searched for the boys.

The second you had left that bathroom, you felt the air shift. You tensed up instantly; the whispers from the other room and the emptiness of the room you were once in with them didn’t do much to ease you. You called out for Eric quietly, noticing how the room you were in was left exactly the way you left it. You thought the worst- the Children of Nox got there before you could, and it was over. You quickly turned the corner near the whispers and put your head up against the wall on the other side of the doorframe where you couldn’t be seen or heard. Those Motherfuckers. 

“Eric, of all the fucking years I’ve known you, that was the one- the ONE fucking secret I ask you to keep, and you go ahead and tell the fucking chosen one? The one it’s about? How the fuck could you do this to me? After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you.” You spit at him, your voice cracking as you search his eyes for any sort of guilt or sympathy he could offer.  

“Y/N, I-”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear another word.” You bite your lip as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m fucking done- I’m FUCKING done!” You shout, both of them jumping from your sudden rise in octaves. You needed to get the fuck out of there- it was once again too much for you to handle at that moment. 

“Y/N-” They both say sincerely at the same time.

“Don’t fucking follow me!” You slam the door behind you, pushing your back against it and taking another deep breath.

No part of this was going to be easy- you knew that. You knew what you were getting yourself into once Anakin approached you. It was only time before he figured it out. Would you have ever told him? Maybe. But Eric didn’t even give you the fucking chance to tell him- much less figure out how you would even approach the conversation. You had years to figure out this conversation and how you wanted it to go. Did you ever figure it out? Of course not. Anakin was the last fucking thing you ever wanted to think about, and you truly hated him. He changed your life without even knowing who you were. But he was deceived as much as you were. Was it really his fault? Or were you just looking for someone to blame? Someone to direct that anger and hate you felt within you. All of those natural feelings the Jedi had you suppress. Of course, you had no healthy way to feel or direct them. 

With that thought, you groaned in annoyance and stood up to find something else to occupy your mind. When was the last time you even fucking ate? You walked through Eric’s house to his kitchen, opening the fridge and scrounging around for something you could whip up into a decent meal. It’s the least he could do after this betrayal. And honestly? You didn’t care what he thought anymore. He was dead to you. At least right now, until you got some food in you and calmed down, he was.

“Fuck!” Eric curses, hitting his fist into the wall as he watches you leave the room. “You really weren’t supposed to know this.” He turns to face Anakin solemnly, feeling guilty about the exchange. 

“I just- I don’t understand any of this.” Anakin sits down, furrowing his brows in confusion as he looks up at Eric.

“Listen, Anakin,” Eric directs his gaze towards Anakin, “Y/N rescued me from the Children of Nox. I owe her my life. And she told me about you and everything in complete confidence that I would never tell a single soul.” Anakin’s face falls at Eric’s words, his heart aching for you once again. “I failed at that task, Anakin. The second I watched you two interact I just felt as if you had a right to know. She was deceived for so long, and I know how much it hurt her, and I remember when she told me and-”

‘Eric,” Anakin stands up, putting his hand on Eric’s shoulder, “You did the right thing. I couldn’t thank you enough for telling me. Now relax for a second while I go do some damage control, okay?” He searches Eric’s face, finally getting the nod of approval he needs before he sets off to find you. 

Anakin leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him to not make you aware of his presence. He waits for a moment, smelling the area around him as his stomach growls. Fuck, he was hungry. And where else would a famous Chef be? He turned the corner into the kitchen, seeing your frail figure as you stirred what appeared to be soup. He gulps upon seeing you, noticing how tense your body is and how weak you feel. It was like he could feel it too- every emotion, all of your pain and suffering, was aching through him like a bad cold. He feels his palms grow sweaty, the anxiety tingling as he licks his lips and tries to find the words to say. What could he possibly say? I’m sorry? He knows there’s nothing to change this or make it better or even help you at the moment, so he-

“Are you gonna just fucking stand there and watch me or what?” You set the wooden spoon down on the counter and wipe your hands off on a rag as you turn and face the uneasy Jedi in the doorway behind you. He leans against the door, clearing his throat as he tries to ease the tension in the room. 

“No, sorry. Just wanted to apologize. I-”

“Anakin, stop.” You sigh at him, turning back to the soup you were attempting to save on the stove, “Eric shouldn’t have told you; it’s fine.” He cocks his head in bafflement, the aggravation increasing within him.

“But, I-I’m a part of this- shouldn’t I have a right to know?” You pause your stirring, looking up from the pot and straight ahead at the counter. 

“Anakin, you really don’t want to start this argument with me right now.”

“Or what? You probably wouldn’t have even told me!” He raises his voice, “I find out from some fucking stranger that you were a part of this- have always been a part of this- and my entire life is a fucking lie, and I’m supposed to be calm?”

“Anakin, stop!” You throw the spoon down on the counter, finally giving him the satisfaction of eye contact. You see his gaze slightly soften upon seeing your glassy eyes, “Listen-” You blurt before squeezing your eyes shut and taking a deep breath, “I promise you, we will talk about this soon. Please, let’s eat this and go our separate ways to get our things, okay? I think we both need some food and a second to calm down before we spend more time together. I promise I will explain everything.” You put your hand on his shoulder gently, biting your lip in frustration as you glimpse into his worried eyes, “Eric shouldn’t have told you because he doesn’t have all of the details. I know how you feel- how this affects you. And it affected me just as badly. I understand you. And I want to talk about it, I really do. It’s just that now is neither the time nor the place to do so, okay?” 

He nods in response, feeling his own eyes grow glassy upon the realization of it all. He squeezes his eyes shut, frightened of crying in front of you, and instead pulls you in for a tender, delicate hug. You’re taken aback by his vulnerability, but you welcome it, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting him lean into your touch. You gently rub your hands down his back, feeling him ease into you more. He hiccups slightly, and you recognize the suppressed sob, feeling your heart break for the Jedi in your arms. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He mumbles into your shoulder, slowly inching his hand towards the back of your neck as you continue to rub his back. 

“Ani, it’s okay,” You stand back, breaking the hug and rushing to walk away as you curse yourself for the nickname, “Just- let me feed you, okay?” He nods and hums in response, wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath.

You smile at him gently before turning around, grabbing a bowl, and filling it up with the soup you made. You top it with some cheese and herbs and walk towards him, placing it on the table in front of him as you sit across from him with your own bowl. Eric quietly enters the room, attempting to avoid your lingering gaze.

“There’s a bowl on the counter for you, Eric. You can join us.” You motion to the counter as you blow on your soup, earning a confused look from Eric and a brow raise from Anakin. 

“Thank you,” He mumbles as he grabs the bowl and heads to the other side of the table. 

Anakin finally takes a bite of his soup and- holy shit. One bite from something you made, and he swears he’s never had a real meal in his entire fucking life. He fucking moans loudly at the taste of it, and you giggle at his reaction, making it all worth the embarrassment. He couldn’t comprehend how you could make something so delicious out of nothing. So few ingredients, yet combined together, he had the most delicious meal of his life. And it was just what he needed. The Temple food and nutrition bars he was constantly left with were nothing but sustenance- not real pleasure or taste. This time, he was actually eating to taste, not to just sustain. He very rarely got the pleasure of doing anything that wasn’t for basic survival or for the good of others. He very rarely got the pleasure of doing things just for himself.

“Damn, Anakin, you act like you’ve never eaten before the way you’re scarfing that down,” Anakin slowly looks up, noticing that you and Eric had been staring and giggling for quite a while now. 

“Sorry- I- I’ve just never had anything quite this good before.” He fumbles over his words, his cheeks growing a pleasant pink from embarrassment. “It’s just really good.” He avoids your gaze, giving the soup his full attention once again.

“I’m glad you think so,” You smile softly at him before taking another bite.

“This is what I meant when you called ‘Like a Bantha!’ just a restaurant earlier-”

“Eric!” You scold him as you set your soup down, “Stop being dramatic. I’m a decent cook-”

“Y/N, be fucking realistic- you’re not just a ‘cook,’ you’re a fucking award-winning chef! People would kill to get a reservation at your restaurant. You’re fucking famous- and Jedi over here needs to be fucking educated!” He motions towards Anakin, the room falling silent at his claims.

“All in due time, Eric. Some of us- not to name names- need to learn patience.” You turn towards him, your lips forming a tight, annoyed smile. “Just eat your fucking soup. Like the Jedi’s doing.” He rolls his eyes as you and Anakin chuckle at your joke, briefly making eye contact that lasts a little too long. He notices the way your smile grew slightly upon his eyes meeting yours. That was something he could get used to seeing. You were eager to change the subject, breaking your gaze from his quickly.

“So, Anakin,” You set your spoon down, gaining the Jedi’s attention as you pick up a napkin and carefully wipe the corners of your mouth, “I was thinking we should both go to our respective places and get what we need for the foreseeable future since we’ll be gone for who knows how fucking long. And maybe you could borrow a Republic transport we could use? I know you could dock it at my building. I’m not really interested in visiting the Temple just yet.” He furrows his brows at your sudden professionalism towards him, the softness in your voice disappearing once again. 

“That could definitely be arranged. I’ll see what the Council will allow me to take.” He clears his throat, attempting to hide his confusion. 

“Perfect- it’s a date.” You blurt out before you could even think. You wince at your words, taking a long drink of water to avoid the gaze of the men in front of you. 

“Great,” Anakin says, standing up and pushing his chair in as he grabs his bowl and sets it in the sink. “I’ll get right on that. Should I meet you at your building?”

“Yes, that would be preferable. Do you need directions?” You stand up after him, walking towards the sink with your own bowl in hand. He grabs it out of your hand and rinses it for you. 

“Nah, I’m sure I got it, Chef.” He sends you a wink before turning towards the door and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks slightly. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Eric. This whole thing has been a fever dream.” He reaches his hand out and shakes Eric’s. At this point you had tuned out their conversation and just watched the actions of the Jedi in front of you as he left Eric’s house. The second you heard the door latch behind him you felt your shoulders drop. 

“Okay- now that he’s gone,” You turn your attention to Eric, his eyes widening with a mouthful of soup. “We need to have a fucking talk.” He swallows at your words, wiping his face on the back of his hand. 

“Y/N, I promise you I never meant-”

“Eric, the fucking audacity of you to do this after everything we’ve been through and everything I’ve done for you!” You shout slightly before taking a step back and turning away, allowing yourself to calm down for a moment, “Listen, I’m just upset. I didn’t expect Anakin to suddenly appear in my life- especially in this way. These two traumas of mine were never supposed to combine and meet like this. And now I just have to confront them and face them head-on at the same fucking time and act like I’m okay?” Your voice cracks slightly by the last word, your eyes growing watery, and your mouth suddenly dry. You sit down at the table in front of Eric, meeting his concerned gaze.

“Y/N, If anyone has got this- it’s you. And listen, I am so fucking sorry. It was never my fucking place to do that to you, and you didn’t deserve that. It’s just that I remembered how hard it was for you to tell me about it- much less the person it was a result of. I just- I don’t know. I guess I figured I was doing you a favor by doing the hard part for you. I just wanted to help you. I didn’t want to see you hurt again, and I ended up hurting you, and for that, I am so sorry.”

“Eric, I- I understand why you did it.” You reach your hands out, grabbing his in your own, “You did what I was too scared to do. Honestly, I should fucking thank you. You got the hard part out of the way,” You chuckle slightly, easing the tension in the room, “I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn and angry about this. Just been scared to confront it. And now I’m being forced to confront both of the skeletons in my closet at the same time. I just don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know?” 

He smiles at you reassuringly, giving your hand a slight squeeze, “We both got this shit. We got a great lead, and we have a fucking Jedi on our side as well as the entire Council. This is our chance to finally put everything behind us. We shouldn’t be sitting here moping about our pasts- we should be fucking excited!” You throw your head back and laugh, feeling warm from the feeling. 

“You’re right, new opportunities,” You hum in response, standing up and turning to the counters as you grab the dirty dishes and begin wiping them clean in the sink. 

“You know- Anakin’s totally your type.”

“Ericccc,” You groan, scrubbing the pot slightly more aggressively than you were before, “Don’t go there.”

“I’m just saying!” He jumps from his seat, making his way over to you as he picks up a rag from the counter and begins drying off your wet dishes, “And how are we so sure that that isn’t part of the prophecy?” 

You set your dish down in the sink and sigh dramatically, turning to face the cheeky man beside you, “ We aren’t- but-” You put a finger to his smiling lips, stopping him before he could continue, “It’s all a lot more complicated than it looks, trust me. And plus- I can barely stand the dude! He’s so… full of himself. And he walks around and acts exactly like the fucking so-called ‘chosen one’ would. It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Uh-huh.” Eric smiles mischievously as he puts a bowl in the cabinet, turning his head away from you, “And are we gonna act like you weren’t insanely turned on when he called you Chef?” Your eyes widen, and you choke on your own spit for a moment. 

“Fuck off!” You yell, grabbing the rag from his hand and hitting him with it as he laughs at your reaction, “I was not! Just- was- caught off guard is all.” 

“Anyways!” You turn around to face him, wiping the front of your hands on your tunic, “I really should get going, Eric. Anakin and I have a long road ahead after this; Obi-Wan really needs us.”

“I understand,” He approaches you, pulling you into a welcoming hug, “Just- please be safe. And preferably come back in one piece. If anyone has got this- it’s you.” You smile warmly against him at his words, gripping his body just a little tighter before you go. 

“Thank you, Eric. I really couldn’t have done this without you.” He smiles.

“Don’t mention it. Now, go get your Jedi!” 

The ride back to the Temple was smooth and uneventful. Anakin took a local taxi, figuring it was better to get there as fast as he could, although he really could have used the walking time to think about everything he learned that morning. The city was busy, per usual, and he felt his eyes squint slightly at the sun as they rose closer to the surface of the planet near the Temple. 

Was it really so bad? Not being the only chosen one? It was different, for sure. And it changed everything he ever believed in. And it only further proved his theory that the Jedi Council wasn’t exactly right about everything. It only further supported his feelings against the Council. Was that a bad thing? Was any of this a bad thing? Anakin knew as much as he needed answers- only his previous master could give them to him. I mean, for all he knew, you and Eric were both lying to him. Then again, he saw the look on your face, and Eric was so genuine about it… 

Since he was a padawan, he felt unsure about the prophecy. That was an enormous weight to carry on his shoulders- and he couldn’t pretend to ignore the way the other children looked at him. They treated him differently, almost like they were scared of him. Granted, he was an outsider, and he was older and far behind on his skills than they were, but he caught up quickly and not only proved to be a fast learner but dangerously good at everything he did. He chalked up their odd looks and whispered jealously, jealous that they couldn’t be as strong or powerful as he was. Jealous that they wouldn’t be the ones to bring balance to the force. 

As cheesy as it sounded, that was the only way a teenage Anakin could wrap his mind around the fact that the other children didn’t want to be friends. As he got older, he accepted that it was probably jealousy and also a bit of fear. He came into things a bit of a freak, yes, and was it fair for them to treat him like that? Absolutely not. But that wasn’t going to stop them. Anakin actually did the healthy thing and accepted those fears, confronting them head-on and using them to his advantage. He got older and more mature, and he was able to push most of that anger aside, letting it heal him instead of taking advantage of him. Most of it, at least. 

And because of that, he was so careful with Ahsoka, making sure that she didn’t make the same mistakes as he did. Despite the code, he wanted her to feel loved and accepted, the way his Master did when he felt the other padawans’ lingering gaze. He spent his time thoughtfully teaching his padawan, learning his own lessons along the way. He never thought they’d lead him here- finding you- and finding out that you weren’t just a stranger. You were practically his other half. It was never just about him- it was about the both of you. And the Council was too scared to see that to fruition. Too scared to stand by their codes and “morals” and let the chosen ones bring balance to the force. 

And fuck, was he angry! He was fucking seething just thinking about standing in front of the Council once again, witnessing their judgemental faces look upon him as they tried to intimidate him. They lied to him his entire life, ripped him away from his mother, just to deny him the rank of master AND his birthright? How many years were you kept in the shadows just so you both could live a lie? How could Obi-Wan look him in the eye all these years and not tell him? He knows Obi-wan was burdened with training him, and there was a lot of pressure on him to not fuck up the ‘chosen one.’ So, of course, there had to be risks, but he thought they were friends. He could have told him, and he didn’t. What would he even say to Obi-wan once they rescued him? That is- if he’s still alive. 

With that thought, Anakin’s face fell slightly upon considering the death of his former Master. As much as he wanted to be furious at the Jedi for keeping such an integral secret from him, the idea of Obi-Wan’s death would fucking destroy him. And he knew that. He’s had a hard time keeping it together this entire time. You were frustrating- Eric was fucking unbelievable- and then everything happened, and he was so overwhelmed with these emotions he finally felt a bit calm, actually. 

Anakin’s head suddenly snapped forward as the cab driver knocked against the back window, breaking him from his trance. The man muttered some curses in an alien language as Anakin threw him some credits and stepped outside of the taxi and onto the landing platform of the Temple.  

He honestly shuddered slightly at the sight of it, seeing numerous politicians, staff, Jedi and their padawans, as well as clone troopers, walking around the platform as he walked deeper into the building.

“General Skywalker,” He was greeted by a clone, giving him a simple nod as he walked by the battalion and into the lion’s den. 

He quickly turned every corner, walking down the hallways at a swift and punishing pace to avoid being seen despite his presence being openly welcomed. Like he was a child again, he felt uncomfortable in the Temple. It didn’t feel like his home. He didn’t feel as welcome as a Jedi should in the Jedi Temple. 

He makes his way to his quarters, scanning his thumbprint and walking into the mess of a room he typically calls home. It was as bad as he left it. He sighed for a moment, kicking some boots and clothing out of the way on the floor as he made his way to his bed and lay down for a moment. He just needed a second. He stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, counting to 30, and then exhaling for as long as he physically could. 

He abruptly stands, throwing everything he needs into a bag. He walks around double-checking his room and throwing away miscellaneous trash he spotted every now and then. He threw dirty clothes into a bin and random decent-smelling articles of clothing into the general vicinity of his closet. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a half-filled water bottle, his eyes squinting at it while the corners of his mouth tugged at a smile. He picks it up and pours the remainder of it into the pitiful plant on his desk, feeling somewhat more accomplished with the space again. He glances at the picture on his desk, seeing Obi-wan’s smiling face and feeling a tug at his heartstrings. How could he hate this man? He was probably just trying to protect him. He would’ve told him sooner or later, right?

He sighs at himself again, feeling particularly annoyed with his emotions. He typically had everything under control, but the past two days had left him feeling like a lonely, misunderstood teenager once again. He opened the door, and to his surprise, he was met with a familiar face. 

“Rex said he saw you here, figured I’d stop by and see you before you go.” The young Togrutan girl motions to the bag on his shoulder, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“Snips- I-I wasn’t expecting you.” Anakin steps aside, baffled by her presence. 

“Well, I just wanted to see you before you leave. I know you wouldn’t have interrupted my training to see me, but I just wanted to wish you luck before your mission. It’s my fault you’re going after all.” Anakin’s face falls upon seeing the guilt in Ahsoka’s eyes and feeling his own guilt as well. 

“Ahsoka,” He lowers his voice comfortably, putting a hand on her shoulder, “It was never your fault. You were doing as you were told. I should have been there- I was the one who disobeyed the Council directly and paid the price for it. Obi-wan will be back here soon, and I guarantee he will not blame you. I can guarantee you I will hear a mouthful from him.” He chuckles slightly, a smile spreading on his face as Ahsoka giggles at the thought of a grumpy Obi-Wan.

“Master Kenobi is quite fond of his lectures.”

“You could say that again.” They laugh once more. The silence between them brings a returning tension as Anakin approaches his departure from the Temple.

“I guess this means goodbye for now, Skyguy.” Ahsoka adverts his gaze, looking down and biting her lip as she watches her Master sigh.

“Listen, Snips, It won’t be for long. Besides, I’m working with a great team, and everything is going to turn out to be okay.” She looks up and nods understandingly.

“Master, I know the code disapproves of attachments,” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side at her remark, “But you and Obi-wan are the closest thing I have to a family. I can’t help but feel a little worried. Just promise you’ll return home in one piece?”

“I promise,” he laughs, ignoring the way his heart broke slightly upon hearing her worries. Instead, he gives her a subtle hug before pulling away. “I’ll be back soon—get back to training. I don’t want you to turn out like me, okay?” She laughs at him before running off from his quarters and down the hall, suddenly gone from sight. 

He watches her go, grateful he could conceal the heaviness in his heart for the moment. He wouldn’t want Ahsoka to be burdened with his troubles while he was gone. If it ever comes up, he’ll tell her later. He has a lot more to figure out before he gets to that step. 

He hails down another taxi, giving it the general directions of your building since he was too stubborn to ask you for your address. When he arrives at your building, he wastes no time marching through the lobby and into the elevator, pressing the button for your fancy penthouse suite.

Before Anakin had arrived, you weren’t sure what you were even doing. You had packed a bag, changed your clothes, and showered, too, but you just felt like something wasn’t right. You knew realistically you weren’t missing anything- but there was that feeling. Of course, that feeling could totally be the fact that you were about to join your sworn enemy since childhood to save his master (who told you a devastating secret) from a cult that you were once a part of, only to bring him back to a different, ‘good,’ cult you were also once a part of. It definitely couldn’t be that. Nope. 

With a brisk knock on the door, you were startled from the trance you were in as you adjusted your hair slightly in the mirror. Although you knew it was Anakin, it still made you tense. This would be your first time truly alone together since everything that transpired at Eric’s house. You bit your lip anxiously before hearing the door knock again and a light ‘Hello?’ from the other side. You swear under your breath, acknowledging you spaced out again before scurrying over and opening the door for him. 

“Hey, sorry, Anakin, was doing something,” You mumble before scooting out of the way to let him into the apartment. You quickly shut the door behind the two of you before walking ahead of him to a mirror to finish putting on some lipstick and fixing whatever else you could on your face. 

“Wow- uh- you sure clean up nice.” He stammers, taking in your figure. You were dressed very professionally but still comfortable. He couldn’t help but stare at the way your pants sat nicely on your ass, then flowing down comfortably. It gave so much and so little room to the imagination. 

“Yes,” You popped the cap back onto your lipstick as you spun around to face him, “That’s because we actually have a stop to make before we leave,” 

“Hm,” he hums, evading your eyes as he looks down at a list on your countertop. “I’m assuming this has something to do with it?” He looks up, and you beam, walking to his side as you glance down at the list. 

“Yes, actually, I haven’t missed a day of work in years,” You clear your throat abruptly, not wanting to show too much of your emotions to him, “My position was always too important to leave. But, I trained a few lucky employees to take my place in my quick absence. This is just to help them out.” You motion to the paper as he picks up up and scans through the numerous pages. 

“You typed all this up while I was gone?” You look at the concerned look on his face while he skims your writing. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anakin.” You snatch the paper out of his hand and shoot him a playful wink. “I’m just always prepared. You never know what could happen.” He chuckles.

“You could say that.”

As you both stepped out of the taxi, he couldn’t believe the shift in your demeanor upon arriving at “Like a Bantha!”. He also couldn’t believe how fucking busy it was. Sure, it was a Friday night, and he was at a ‘popular’ restaurant (as you so humbly described), but this was nothing like he had expected. His hand was quickly finding its way to your lower back protectively, not even realizing how automatically the gesture came to him. He immediately felt slightly out of place, noticing how you took everything in with such grace and professionalism. There was a line wrapped around the block, and they all screamed upon seeing you. You gave a toothy grin and a wave as cameras flashed in your direction. Great. What fucking tabloids was he going to end up in? 

“Welcome in, Ms. L/N,” The security guard steps aside, pulling the rope out of the way for the both of you to walk in. Why you didn’t just go through the back was beside him. He knew better than to question you. But what happened to Naberrie?

“Thank you, Antony,” You smiled at the guard before striding into your busy restaurant, paying no mind to the bewildered Jedi beside you. 

As you walked through the entrance, Anakin couldn’t believe his eyes. He had never seen anything like this before. Sure, he’s been to bars and a few restaurants every now and then. But absolutely nothing like this. Not only was it loud and fucking packed, but the restaurant was gorgeous. It reflected everything he could remember about Naboo. There was even a huge fountain on the wall by the bar, very reminiscent of the lake country. And the smell? Oh, he just fucking died and was reborn again. The dim lighting, the natural woods, the greenery everywhere, it was so beautiful. He couldn’t believe a restaurant could ever be this nice. And to think you created this? That was even more impressive. He was looking at your baby, an exact reflection of your mind. He glanced towards the bar and noticed on the back wall was a beautiful painting of Queen Amidala. He felt a smile creep on his face, recognizing the gown from when he was a child. It was nice how you included her in this.

He followed you through the restaurant, in between tables, as onlookers boggled the both of you. He typically didn’t like being stared at, but for some reason, he didn’t mind it. Although you took most of the attention- he was just an added bonus. Jedi’s weren’t a typical patron at “Like a Bantha!”. 

The second you swung open the kitchen doors, he was instantly tense. However, he couldn’t help but notice the smile on your face widening as you saw your staff. The lights were bright, the smells intense, and the voices were fucking loud. Everyone was yelling something incoherently at each other. The only thing he could make out were a few curses every now and then. 

You walked up to Cora, watching her shoulders drop as she was instantly relieved by your presence.

“Thank the Maker, you’re here, Chef.” She pulls you in for a tight embrace before pulling back and looking you up and down. “Though I have a feeling I’m about to say goodbye again?”

You laugh slightly at her reaction, holding your arms on her shoulders, “Unfortunately so, Chef. I have business- elsewhere that I must attend to. Although, you are doing an impeccable job. Luca’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?”

“No, just never shuts up about you.” She giggles, adjusting her apron slightly for you.

“Of course he doesn’t,” You roll your eyes, “But things are good?”

“Chef, I promise you- they are as perfect as they can be in your absence. I wouldn’t let this become anything other than that for you.” You smile gently at her words, “Now- what the hell is going on? I just found out about you being an ex-Jedi, and now you bring in Anakin Skywalker??” You laugh at her words, shaking your head slightly. 

‘Listen, Cora,” Your hands find themselves adjusting her apron for her, “I promise everything is okay. Just some things from my past have come up. We’re trying to get it all figured out.”

Anakin is far too spaced out at this point. Way more than he should ever be. He couldn’t stop staring at you in your natural element. The way the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled or how you threw your head back when you laughed. He watched as the rest of the room was also completely enamored by your presence, suddenly watching their every move as they tried to gain your favor. He leaned slightly against the counter behind him, ignoring the lingering stares of the cooks surrounding him as they continued through the rush of the evening. He unconsciously bit his lip, watching as you talked with your hands to your staff, his eyes trailing down your body from your eyes to your lips, to your neck, and down to the cleavage-

“Hey, mate- you’re staring.” Anakin jumps slightly in response, turning his head to be met with a smile from a man he’d never seen before. “I’m guessing it’s your first time seeing her? She is quite a force to be reckoned with.” Anakin lets out a chuckle at the man's words. 

“I- uh- sorry, who are you?” Anakin crosses his arms, noticing how the amused smile grows on the man’s face in front of him.

“Right… Jedi- no attachments. Name’s Luca- Chef recently left Chef Cora and I in charge in her absence. That’s Chef Cora she’s talking to right now. Wait- why are you even in here?” Anakin raises a brow at his words, a smile tugging at his lips suddenly. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one-”

“Luca!” You walk up to the younger Chef, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Anakin unconsciously shifts uncomfortably, “I see you’ve met Anakin?”

“Anakin?” Luca looks down at you, raising a brow as he turns his attention back to the Jedi, “So that’s what your name is? Ohhhhh- you arrived with Chef.” Luca suddenly nods understandingly as you shoot him a glare. 

“Luca, heard things have been going well?” You change the subject, and your tone is unexpectedly much more authoritative. Anakin’s pants suddenly feel much tighter.

“Yes, Chef, they’ve been going quite splendidly.” He shoots you a wink as you roll your eyes.

“Good- I’ll be back soon. No funny business.” 

“Chef, would I ever?”

“Luca,” You lean in closer to him, your lips nearing his ear lobe, “We both know you would.” You lean back, shooting him a grin and giving a friendly pat on the back as you send him back to expoing. 

“So, Chef, nice place you have here.” Anakin motions to the room around you, and you feel the heat rise slightly on your cheeks as a smile tugs at your lips. 

“Eh,” You shrug your shoulders, your smile growing wider, “It’s aight.”

“Chef, do you mind trying this? Was thinking of running it tomorrow night,” Cora comes up behind you, a spoon in hand and her other hand under it. 

You nod quickly as you open your mouth, and she feeds it to you. Anakin’s eyes slightly widen at the interaction, both of them staring intensely as your brows raise in thought at the soup you just consumed. 

“Okay, great start,” You lean back against the counter to balance yourself as you bite your lip in thought, “A little cumin, maybe some lemon juice and cilantro. I think if you started with a chicken stock base instead of a vegetable stock, it might give you that oomph you’re looking for, Cora. It’d pair really nicely with that curry special we ran a few months ago. Other than that, this is fucking fantastic, Cora, really great stuff here.”

Anakin watches as Cora’s face instantly lights up from your words, his heart softening once more. 

“Do you wanna try?” Cora turns her attention to Anakin, her smile still wide from your praise. 

“Uh- sure! I’m not much of a Chef. Though, anything’s better than the food they serve at the Temple.” You and Cora both giggle at his words.

You grab the spoon from Cora’s hand, motioning Anakin to come closer as you and Cora suddenly crowd him. You grip his chin lightly with your left hand, his mouth opening slightly as you feed him the warm soup Cora made. Anakin knew his cheeks were flushed. He could feel his entire body tingling from the way you touched him and acted so nicely in front of your staff. He couldn’t stand the way he was feeling, the way you were suddenly making him feel. He felt so weak and pathetic just from your touch. Before he could continue to think further on it, his eyes were widening in surprise at the sudden flavors hitting his tongue and then the lack of your touch as you pulled away. You and Cora both looked at each other and laughed, his cheeks growing red once again at your reaction.

“Good, huh?” You smile at Anakin, him nodding quickly in approval.

“Very, nicely done.” He turns to the younger Chef next to him as she shoots him a grin. 

“Thank you!” She exclaims, “You’re Anakin Skywalker, right?” You and Anakin both turn to her, crossing your arms and raising a brow. She, in turn, raises a brow at the identical mannerisms from the both of you.

“First of all, creepy,” she points her finger at the two of you as you both quickly shift. “Second of all, don’t act like you aren’t famous either! Mr. ‘Hero with no fear’!” 

“You flatter me,” Anakin muses as you and Cora roll your eyes and groan.

“I’m so done with this conversation,” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair as they both giggle in front of you. “Cora, would you watch him for a moment while I go check with front of house?” 

“I don’t need watching!” He scoffs as you laugh and walk off, his eyes never leaving you as you exit the kitchen.

“So, are you like her assigned bodyguard or what?” She asks as Anakin’s head tilts in confusion. 

“Uh- What do you mean?” Anakin awkwardly coughs out, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the smirk that paints Cora’s face.

“It’s just that you watch her so intensely. Like she’s gonna get hurt or something. I don’t know- but I can tell you that I’ve worked under her for years and she is plenty capable of taking care of herself. Can’t believe she’d have a bodyguard in the first place.” Cora continues to tease, her sarcasm going right over Anakin’s head. 

“I-I’m not her bodyguard.” Anakin stammers out while Cora lets out a giggle. 

“I know. Do they not teach sarcasm at the Temple? Besides, what’s a famous Jedi like you doing out and about anyway? Aren’t you a General? And before you say anything- you’re famous. This is all common knowledge.” He laughs at her words, his shoulders slouching as he becomes less tense. 

“I am- but Y/N and I have much more important matters to attend to, unfortunately.” He breaks eye contact, nodding to himself as the heaviness of the situation hits him once more. 

“I see, don’t let her get hurt. She’s capable of handling herself, but she can be quite stubborn from time to time. We need her back here at some point.” Cora chuckles, trying to hide her feelings. Anakin recognizes this. 

“Nothing will happen to her under my watch. Cora, right?” 

“Yes, actually!” She beams. 

“Y/N’s talked about you before. She’s very proud of you- keep up the good work.” Cora opens her mouth slightly in shock, taken aback by what he said. 

“I- thank you. That was really nice to hear.” Anakin smiles gently at her before immediately turning his gaze to you as you walk back into the room. Cora follows and smirks slightly upon seeing what he is looking at. 

“Hey,” You smile gently at Anakin, turning your attention back to the room as you address them all, “Hey, everyone! I’ll be absent for a few days to attend to some personal business. In the meantime, Chef Cora and Chef Luca will be in charge and running the show while I am gone. I will frequently check up with them and make sure things run smoothly in my absence. In the meantime- no funny business. You all know what I expect.” You wink as everyone chuckles. The tension in the room eased at your words. 

‘Yes, Chef!” They all holler back, and Anakin jumps slightly, taken aback by the sudden uproar from the staff. He’s quickly calm when he sees your smile, nodding in approval at everyone.

“Alright, Cora, Luca,” You address them both, Anakin’s eyes moving from you to Luca as he watches the boy gaze upon you respectfully and hungrily at the same time, “Shit’s about to get real.” 

As you slide into the cab, Anakin closes the door behind you and slides in next to you, letting the driver know where to go. You take a deep breath, the weight of what you are about to face crashing down on you slightly. Anakin’s knee brushes against yours, and your breath hitches again once more. What the fuck was wrong with you? 

“Hey,” His his face is etched with concern as he glances at you, “How ya holding up there?”

“Well,” You glance down at your hands, unaware you had been fidgeting this entire time, “I’m about as good as I’ll ever be. And you?”

“Yeah,” Anakin sighs, leaning back into his seat, “About the same here.”

The silence that falls between you two isn’t necessarily awkward or tense but more one of sympathy between the two of you. You turn from him, looking out the window at the city you cared for, his gaze never departing from your slouched figure. You felt bad for the Jedi, and you knew your apprehension towards him was misplaced; he didn’t know what he was getting into. He didn’t know there was a history. He didn’t know your history. How should he? And it’s not like you knew what he was going through, either. He probably had it even harder since the council picked him as their designated chosen one. The more time you spent with the man, the more you began to feel for him. It had only been 2 days; was this a weakness?

Anakin watched as you turned away from him, the gears turning in that smart brain of yours. He tilted his head as he watched you, wishing he knew what was going on in that mind of yours. Since he found out about you from Eric, there was so much on his mind. He felt for you- he took your life from you. And he didn’t even know he did it. He felt extremely guilty despite it not truly being his fault. Anakin desperately wished he knew what to say, how to make this better. The only thing he could do was give you space and time, hoping that the proximity between the two of you would do something to mend everything. He understood the way you felt, your uncertainty around him. 

He sighed gently, turning away from out and directing his gaze out of his own window. He watched the other vehicles race by and wondered about the passengers in each of them. Was he really making a difference in the galaxy? Or was this all just more Jedi propaganda? And what reason do the Jedi have for being involved in these complicated politics in the first place? As he lost himself in thought, he felt you gently move towards him, your head suddenly resting on top of his shoulder. 

“Hope this is okay,” You mumbled as you yawned slightly, closing your eyes as you got comfortable with your proximity to the Jedi. For once, you didn’t care about the past or about who Anakin Skywalker was. You were just cold and needed sleep. Thankfully, Anakin was warm and provided the utmost comfort. 

“Of course.” He mumbles back, gently brushing your hair out of your face as a soft hum leaves your parted lips. 

He was extremely taken aback by the sudden softness from you, and the way you got comfortable next to him. Trauma bonding, maybe? He wasn’t sure. He welcomed it, but he couldn’t help but feel worried for you. He knew this was hard for you, and you were so tired. It had been a long 48 hours for the both of you, and he knew you barely slept.

But the second he heard the soft snores escape your lips, he knew he was dumb to question any of it. He could feel a weakness for you growing within him, as natural as breathing, and he didn’t care. He chose not to question it- the feeling was too good and too natural to be questioned. Maybe this all happened for a reason; maybe the force was putting you together at this moment for a purpose? Of course, it was a shame Obi-Wan and so many others were involved and hurt, but you were the chosen one(s). There had to be more intention to this, he was sure of it. And with that thought, Anakin snaked an arm around your waist, letting you fully lean into him comfortably as you slept.

chapter 5.

[mothgodofchaos]

Would it be wrong to ask for a pt2 to the vampire actor thing? Cause he's incredibly hot

Refusal

Took me a bit to figure out what I wanted for this, but I think I'm happy with this idea.

Part One

Vampire!Actor x GN!Reader, TW: slight tantrum Words: 793

You could not sleep all night, pacing around your room as you wait for anything positive to happen. It’s a bit ironic seeing the windows covered in iron grates, considering that they’re used usually to contain vampires themselves, although it does make you wonder if you’re the only person to be held in this room. The wardrobe is stocked with old fashioned clothing of many styles, and part of you feels a bit like a dress-up doll. Your body tries to collapse from exhaustion once morning comes, but you’re determined to stay awake and glare down your captor at breakfast.

There’s a quiet knock at the door, and the butler you learned to address as “Benjamin” opens the door slowly.

“Good morning, breakfast is prepared. Did you sleep?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe the master of the castle will be pleased to hear that, but I’d rather you hear that from him than interfere with your interpersonal affairs. I am simply here for a job. Well, up we pop then, your presence has been requested.” 

“I’m not going.”

“...I will relay the news.”

He disappears behind the door and you resume your sulking, sitting up on the floor. You hear distant yelling, followed by running up the stairs. The handle rattles as he struggles to open it, eventually busting it open and looking completely disappointed in you.

“And who are you to deny a formal request to be joined at breakfast? First you break into my house, then you don’t sleep, and now you refuse my food! I am trying to be nice! I could drain you right now and no one will ever find your body!”

Mark just looks at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. The directness of his statement kind of jarred you, not making you realize how much mercy you may actually be experiencing right now.

“I will… be right down…”

“Thank you! Apparently it’s just far too much to ask your home invaders to be a decent house guest. Motherfucking shit, you fucking egg.”

He storms back out of the room, robe flaring dramatically behind him. Benjamin peers his head in, looking at you a bit sheepishly. 

“Apologies, but my loyalties are to the master first, and there was no way that the day were to continue without his… outburst.”

“Do you actually enjoy working for him? Living up here?”

“To be honest, it’s better than the life I led before approaching him with my services. There used to be more staff, but they’re all gone now.”

“Did he eat them!?”

“No, they simply retired due to their old age. I took the route of vampirical infusion, so age is less of a problem for me.”

He pulls up his lip to the side, revealing small fangs.

“Well, I shall leave you to it. I do suggest changing into something else, those will be far more comfortable in the long term. Leave your washing in the bin over there and it will be laundered for you.”

“Umm… thanks?”

He departs without another word, softly closing the door. You look in the wardrobe, finding some combination of clothes that fit your tastes. You don’t quite know how to get it all on properly, and your sleep deprivation is certainly not helping with your coordination. Once dressed, you exit to the downstairs banquet hall where Mark is waiting for you. He looks up from his scroll, and absolutely beams when he sees you.

“Oh do you like them? I haven’t touched those in ages. A bit too outdated for my current tastes by a century or two. But I’m so happy to see them be worn again!”

You open your mouth to speak that it was Benjamin’s idea, but a finger to Benjamin’s lips and a wink makes you reconsider.

“I haven’t really worn clothes like this before, so I’m not particularly sure I’m styling these correctly.”

“Oh nonsense! A bit of tweaking here and there can be done, but it seems like for the most part you have them on as their designs intended. Here, let me help.”

He rounds the table, straightening your shoulders and adjusting your clothes without a second thought. It’s rather strange feeling his hands on you, adjusting your clothes and really making you feel like a dress-up doll. When he finishes, he stands back and clasps his hands.

“Much better! Although we’ll have to do something about those eye bags… a matter for tomorrow. Eat up, Benjamin’s cooking is rather worth it, one of many reasons I quickly agreed to turning him when he requested it.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

“Nonsense! Now everyone, eat!”

He’s a bit bossy, but honestly, you’ve been hosted by worse people. You just hope it doesn’t go downhill from here.

[theonlyren]

Ryme City Gengar

This is Kati

She's my Gengar partner.

DISCLAIMER: The following is my account of how I came to own my Gengar, Kati. It is a true story, however, I have falsified names and omitted the direct address of relevant parties in this story for their “protection.” Please do not seek these people out or harass them. They are not worth your time or energy. This is not a happy tale, especially if you like Ghost-types, are a Hex Maniac, or have a shred of common decency. Now, without further ado.

Consider the Gastly.

Gastly is one of the most well-documented, well-known, common ghost types across the regions. It’s in Oak’s original Pokedex and even shows up in Laventon’s old field journals. Its body is 95% gas, and it’s one of the lightest known pokemon in the world, to the point where a stiff wind will make the thing vanish (it’ll re-materialize later just fine, though). The remaining 5% of it is somewhat less clear. It could be argued that this 5% is undoubtedly what gives the Pokemon its Ghost typing. Some believe it is the souls of those its gas has killed, others believe it’s the ghostly essence of graveyard grievances, or forlorn memories of departed people or places.

All Kati remembers is waking up in front of the grave of a girl named Catherine.

I was backpacking through Galar at the time, I had the clothes on my back, the spares in my pack, some few thousand Pokedollars, basic Pokemon care and healing supplies, a phone, and my Eevee and Zorua, Vivi and Aka, respectively. I was looking for a place to crash for the night and wound up at a village in the southern edge of the region. Extremely quaint, very lovely, and I ran into the residents of a very old chateau, whose family had lived there for generations. They were trust fund kids, basically. The husband, who we’ll call John Doe, lived in the estate with his wife, Jane, his parents - his father being the local (and, if you’ve been following my Chatotter, a certain) reverend - and his grandparents. I met John and Jane at the town's only pub, and they were utter sweethearts; to this day, I still wish them well and the best for them. Upon telling them I was the son of Pokemon Rangers, and an Arceist, they asked if I could help them with an issue they’ve been having at the chapel.

Now, to a normal person, this probably would’ve set off every red flag in the universe. Supposedly rich family is inquiring about an outsider for “help”? Boi they’re about to steal your Pokemon and lock you in the basement. Turns out, something being locked in the basement was the issue. I initially declined, but then John made an offer to pay me a… moderately life changing amount of Pokedollars, provided I could solve the issue, which- er, piqued my curiosity enough to at least humor the couple. I figured I had Aka with me, and if things become sketchy he could use a clever illusion to help bail me outta there.

This village I went to was absurdly secluded, they hardly ever received tourists or travelers. The local authorities were in the back-pocket of John’s parents, which he was quick to explain as he led me to the estate. Once we arrived, he played me off as a guest of his wife’s side of the family, and I was introduced to this man’s elders.

I know the saying goes to respect your elders, but one look at this man’s family told me everything I needed to know about why John trusted an outsider with this. These were the most miserable, leery-eyed, snobbish, conservative-ass, “only polite because I have to be” motherfuckers I have ever had the discomfort of meeting and breaking bread with. The bread was the only good thing about their dinner as well, come to think of it, with unseasoned vegetables, beans, and… ok, the shepherd’s pie was alright, but still.

Later that night, John led me out as if to politely escort me off, but detoured around the back of the mansion to the village’s church, where we went through a cellar entrance.

And that’s where I would meet Kati for the first time.

As he opened the door, I saw paper talismans on the interior side. Cleanse tags. Prayer tags. The like. They dotted the stairwell down, to a locked door, which my escort unlocked to reveal a room, lined - wall-to-wall - with tags. And sitting, suspended in a cage, also laced with these tags, was a Gastly.

Cleanse Tags have long been a staple item for the traveling trainer, useful in helping ward off unwanted wild encounters, if a little uncomfortable for most pokemon to hold. A ghost type can handle holding one for the sake of their trainer.

An entire basement lined with them is torture of the highest order. Especially for a ghost.

This Gastly was well and truly trapped. Being locked in stasis inside a Pokeball would’ve been a kinder fate. Everywhere in this room that she could look, she saw searing wards and condemning reminders that told her in no uncertain terms that she was an unwelcome monster. She could not escape this place, the talismans well and truly suppressed any and all ghost energy she could even try and muster. No phasing, no vanishing, no shrinking or morphing, nothing.

John wanted her freed.

I was quick to agree.

It was clear the man was wrestling with the idea of freeing her for a while, and, when I pressed him about why the poor thing was locked away in the first place, he explained that the Gastly had been locked down here for generations, his late great-(great?)-grandfather had apparently caught the thing at the local graveyard, “communing with Giratina,” if you believe such malarky. So his family took it upon themselves to “catch” the ghost and seal her away in their church to cleanse or contain the sin within her, to the point where it’s become an obsession for the family, and they’ve never known peace since. So it was, she remained down there for something to the effect of over eighty years. 

At least three generations of Does is apparently what it took before one realized “hmm, maybe this Gastly down here is fine???”

So of course because things had to be dramatic, we heard the upper cellar door open the moment I tore enough tags off the cage to get the Gastly out. John told me to get my Zorua out and hide as he’d go distract whoever it was. I did so and told Aka to blend us into the wall. John went up, tried to tell his father the Gastly had escaped, and when he angrily came down to verify, well.

The Gastly didn’t like seeing the old man’s face.

She gassed my face to break free and immediately went for the old-timer. The illusion broke and I now had an angered reverend cursing my name, breaking every rule of engagement, since “the next coming of Giratina” was on the line as he threw his entire fuckin’ team at me. A “prize” furfrou, a machop, and a houndour. 

Trying to remember the fight as best I can, Vivi was strong enough to take out the Houndour, but the Machop made quick work of Aka. My new Gastly friend managed to poison the Machop in turn, but a bite from the Houndour nearly took her out instantly. Vivi weakened the Furfrou and Machop with a quick Swift, but, well, at the time my two team members were both weak to fighting, so the Machop was quick to take him out as well.

It was at that point I discovered the Gastly knew will-o-wisp as it cursed the Machop with its flames, taking it out, and I had an idea.

It was time to run from a trainer battle.

I kicked the Houndour in the face (sorry pup!) and told Gastly to set the remaining tags on fire. With the ones I had already desecrated, she had strength enough to set the room ablaze, which freaked out the reverend father and his pokemon enough that I was able to throw an empty pokeball at the Gastly to “catch” her, lob her out of the cellar as she struggled to break out, and get the absolute hell out of there.

John was waiting in a car outside. An extra broken-and-lobbed pokeball later to get the Gastly away from the reverend, we were driving from the estate and I had a very angry Gastly I was trying to calm down in the backseat of a speeding vehicle. It took a while, but she calmed down when it became clear we were tearing her away from that awful place.

John dropped me off at a graveyard, presumably (and, I would later find, purposefully) the best spot he thought to release the Gastly, - cliche, I know, - he wired me the money, and sped off. The Gastly tore itself free from me, and hovered at one particular grave. It was an old headstone, weathered and faint, but I could just barely make out the name “Catherine” on it. I sat near her as she stared at it. And we stayed there for a while; long time. Appropriately, I think we left at about midnight, when I offered her one more Pokeball and the chance to travel with me, safely, and see the world she was locked away from. Gave her the name “Kati” then and there, both as a shortening of her old name, and because it translates to “Pure.”

We beat feet from that village and never looked back. 

My backpacking journey was a lot more comfortable after that, I’ll say that much. Dude gave me bank.

But, here we are, me and the reverend, locked in something of an awkward stalemate where if either of us try and report what happened, we have to inadvertently confess to crimes we ourselves committed. Pokémon Abuse for the Does. And uh, Arson and Pokémon A&B for me. Trainer Disengagement too, but that’s a misdemeanor more ‘n anything. The fact that both of us have a decent amount of influence, should things get legal, doesn’t help either. Haven’t been back in or extradited to Galar since, and it’s basically been something like a 10 year cold case, so I’m not too concerned about this actually biting me in the ass, but the Reverend Father Doe sure is getting spicy with me on Chatotter.

He can rot for all I care.

Kati’s mine.

And she can burn through any holy tag you throw at her, now.

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

Misery Business

Requested by: @crazymelascula

I was listening to Colson's cover of Misery Business and it made me cry again. And I kind of wanted to read something like the scenario of the song, only in the cover version and going through Colson's vision.

A/N: Sorry it took a little while to get this request out and hold other requests! I just wasn't really sure how to start the storyline but I hope it works and I did actually really enjoy writing it in the end. Enjoy!

Warnings: little fluff, little smut

This is fucking torture. I swear every time I see them together it makes me want to gag or gauge my eyes out or both. They’re so lovey dovey. I wish I could tell her he’s a fucking fake. That he spends all his time with her being all warm and friendly but when she’s not around, he’s a fucking prick. I know what would happen though. She’s so caught up in every piece of crap that spews from his mouth that the second I say something negative about him, she’ll clamp up like a shell and never listen to a word I say. I’ll lose one of the closest friends I’ve ever had and the only girl I think I may actually love, all for that pompous ass. No fucking way, I’d rather sit through the torture. Watching them kiss, the way he pushes a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, the way she smiles at him like he’s the most amazing guy in the world. Gag.

“You ok Kells? You’ve barely touched you lunch,” Rook asks me disapprovingly as he looks down at my almost full plate. Everyone's eyes, including hers, turn to look at me.

“Yeah, just not as hungry as I thought I was,” I mumble without taking my eyes off Y/N. She frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Well, considering you’re not hungry…” Rook trails off while practically drooling over my food.

“Go for your life Rook, I’m going to get some air.” 

I shove my plate in his direction and push away from the table. I head outside and take a deep sobering breath. I pull out a cigarette from my pocket and take a deep inhale. The burning feeling in the back of my throat is a welcome change from the lump that’s been sitting there all evening. I look up at the night sky, the stars completely invisible behind the pollution of the city, and try to calm my thoughts. The black abyss is comforting in some ways I guess. I take a smaller inhale of my cigarette this time and watch the cloud my exhale creates.

“That’s not the way to get fresh air,” I hear a soft voice behind me and my body instantly stills. I turn to see Y/N smirking at me that pisses me off and drives me wild all at the same time.

“I guess I should’ve just said I needed a smoke instead,” I admit as I take another inhale and stomp the rest of the cigarette out under my boot.

“I don’t think anything you said would’ve made your behaviour any less weird but I guess whatever helps you sleep at night,” she chuckles with a shake of her head.

That strand of hair shakes and nestles itself right back into Y/N line of vision again. I wait a few seconds for her to move it but she doesn’t, she just looks at me, waiting for me to speak. I reach out, before I can stop myself, and push the strand behind her ear. My fingertips drift over the flesh of her neck and I hear her small gasp at the contact. I want to immediately rip my hand away but my curiosity creeps in like a sick motherfucker and I want to explore her reaction more. I trail my fingertips from behind her ear, down her neck and stop at the apex of her collarbone. She’s holding her breath, I can tell as I can’t feel her chest rising and falling as my fingers follow along her collarbone to the top of her sternum. 

“Colson, I have to-” she starts to say something but is rudely interrupted.

“Babe, you out here?” her prick of a boyfriend calls out from the door and if I didn’t want to kill him before, I definitely want to now.

“Yes honey, I was just about to come in!” she calls back over her shoulder. 

She gives me a stiff smile before turning around and rushing to her boyfriend’s side. He eyes me from the door and the smug look on his face tells me the asshole picked his timing perfectly. I have to use all of my strength not to stride over to the door and smash his face until it’s nothing but pieces of broken bone and torn flesh but my mind keeps obsessing over what Y/N was going to say.

“Colson, I have to tell you I’m in love with you. My boyfriend isn’t really my boyfriend and he’s just some guy I chose to make you jealous. I just want to be with you and no one else, I swear.”

I have to snort at my own idiotic fantasy. Even I don’t believe the shit my own brain spouts out half the time. I shake my head to clear my mind. All I want to do is focus on how she reacted when I touched her. That has to mean something, right? She didn’t stop me when I continued to touch her. If she didn’t like me in any romantic way at all, would she have ever let me touch her like that? I wish I could read her mind sometimes. A thought I’ve never had about any other woman I’ve ever met in my life.

8 months later

8 months of hell. I don’t want to say I’m ‘happy’ about the situation by any means. I know Y/N is hurting and that fucking kills me. I want to comfort her, I want to be there for her but I don’t know how to be. I keep stressing that I’m going to say the wrong thing or that I won’t be able to handle seeing her upset and I’ll do something to that prick that I shouldn’t. That would just make things worse and I don’t want to do that to her.

When my phone rings, I don’t think much of it. It’s 2pm on a Sunday afternoon and I’ve been sitting in my bed, staring at the blank TV screen and waiting for the day to pass. I answer my phone without looking at the caller ID and her meek, defeated voice fills my ears.

“Hey Kells, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I just…” her timid voice drifts off into silence and I’m instantly on edge.

“You’re never an interruption darling. What’s up?” I try to keep my voice light but I know I sound fake as fuck.

“I um…I don’t know if you heard but me and…uh Lucas…” she takes a deep breath before continuing. “We broke up and I guess I was just feeling lonely and wondered if maybe you’d…want to come hang out?”

I’m up and out the door before I can even think twice about it. I don’t care if it’s a good idea or not. Y/N wants me. She wants me. That’s all that could possibly matter to me right now. She could’ve called any of our friends but she chose me. That has to mean something right? Fuck it. Who cares right? 

“Don’t overthink it!” my brain keeps screaming it at me over and over as I drive down the expressway to her place. My nerves are on edge, I’m jittery and I’m driving like a dick but I don’t care. I just want to get to her before she changes her mind and calls to cancel on me. I couldn’t handle that right now. My body is literally willing me to get to her as quickly as possible. I don’t know what I expect to happen. She did just break up with a guy she was with for an entire year. I can’t go in there expecting too much from her but I can’t help the small butterflies that form in the pit of my stomach as her apartment comes into view.

I practically run up the stairs to the third floor and I’m so winded as I stand outside her door that I have to wait a few moments to collect myself. I tap lightly on the door and hear a muffled “come in”. I open the door gently and I am kind of shocked by what I see.

The apartment is a mess. There’s a concoction of empty takeaway containers, beer bottles, half drunk spirit bottles and abandoned coffee cups. The curtains are drawn so the room sits in a half darkness, light trying to peek through the windows. The whole room smells stale and the air is suffocating. I never thought I’d be the ‘let in the light and fresh air’ guy but I’m leaning that way today. My eyes settle on the crumpled body on the sofa and all my petty thoughts dissipate. The whole apartment could be fucking burning but all I’d care about is the broken woman in the middle of the room. Even in faded old sweats, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Jesus, you look like me after a tour finishes,” I try to lighten the mood with a joke but all she can manage is a weak, half smile.

‘Good work dickhead!’ my mind scolds me and I internally cringe.

“What do you need, honey?” I ask her softly.

I feel lost. I’ve always seen Y/N as a strong, independent woman with a smart mouth and an alcohol tolerance that most men couldn’t compete with. Seeing her barely able to lift her head to look in my direction makes my heart break and my fists clench. All I want is to have a bloody, semi-conscious Lucas on the floor begging for me to stop.

“I don’t- I don;t know. I just…” Y/N tries to speak but it’s as if her brain can’t find the words. She looks at me and gives me that weak smile again and my chest throbs.

“I’ll do anything for you, you know that,” I practically plead for her to make me feel useful.

She looks at me with glassy eyes and I can feel myself splitting in two. She holds her arms out to me and I rush to her side, crushing her to my chest. She sobs and it rakes through her whole body. I rub my hand up and down her back and whisper, what I hope are, soothing words into her ear as she falls apart in my arms. If I could take away every bit of pain with just my words and my embrace, I would in a fucking heartbeat.

I’m not sure how long we sit there for before the crying stops. Y/N breathing eventually slows and we sit there in a comfortable silence, her hand wrapped around the collar of my shirt, holding me in place as if I’m going to disappear if she doesn’t anchor me. I duck my head after a little while and her eyes are closed, her breathing deep and restful. I watch her sleep for a little bit. The tension in her shoulders has eased and her lips have parted slightly, relaxing her jaw. She has her leg lying on top of my thigh and her whole body is faced towards me, almost as if she knows I’m here to protect her. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she takes.

The front door opens slowly and I whip my head towards it that I worry my whole body jolted and I may have woken Y/N. I look down and see her face is still peacefully asleep. I turn my attention back to the door and Ashleigh is looking around, mouth agape, taking in the semi-disaster zone. I hold my finger against my lip and signal for her to be quiet before directing my eyes down to the comatose girl in my arms.

Ashleigh doesn’t say anything, she just silently cleans around us. Removing every piece of trash, organising the half empty spirit bottles into her kitchen cabinet and wiping down every surface with disinfectant. She finds a few candles to scatter around the place to help with the stale smell. She opens the window in Y/N’s bedroom and the kitchen to help with some ventilation. I scowl at her when she tries to open the ones in the living room and she backs away to make a shopping list of groceries. I can’t help but be jealous that Ashleigh is doing all of that stuff for Y/N instead of me. I just continue to sit on the sofa, holding her. 

Ashleigh moves around me as if I’m not even in the room and I’m glad. She catches me staring a couple of times but I try to pretend like I’m just glancing every now and again to make sure Y/N is comfortable and that she’s still asleep.

“You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?” she whispers as she sits in front of me on the now clean coffee table. I frown at her, trying to convey innocence but my heart is hammering inside my chest. My arm instinctively tightens around Y/N and Ashleigh’s eyes zero in on the gesture. “We all know you’re in love with her, so why don’t you just save yourself the stress and just tell her?”

“Yeah, that’ll end well,” I scoff and shake my head defiantly. What a ridiculous idea! She just broke up with her boyfriend for fuck sake.

Wait, was I meant to deny my feelings first? Shit!

“Ok fine. Here’s something to ponder while you sit there pretending to not stare at her, ok?” I nod my head and Ashleigh stands and moves towards the front door. “She hasn’t slept this long in weeks and the moment you arrive, she’s out like a light.” Ashleigh opens the door and begins to leave but she stops herself. She ducks her head back, a shit eating grin on her face. “And if that doesn’t convince you, when she wakes up, ask her why Lucas and her broke up.”

Before I can respond, Ashleigh closes the door and I’m left to sit there and let my brain create 5000 reasons why they broke up and why that would encourage me to tell her how I feel. I’m going insane after an hour and I’m so tempted to wake Y/N just so I can ask her, when suddenly she bolts upright and searches the room, confused and disorientated. She spots me beside her and her cheeks fill with colour.

“What time is it?” she asks, stretching her arms above her head, her shirt dragging up her torso, exposing her hips and her lower stomach. It takes all my strength not to focus on her exposed skin.

‘She asked you a question perv!’ my brain screams at me

“Um- 5:30,” I fumble with my phone, trying to ignore that her arms are back down but that she hasn’t pulled her t-shirt back into place.

“Wow, I haven’t slept that long in…Well, actually, I can’t remember how long it’s been,” Y/N chuckles and looks around the room again. “Has Ashleigh been here?” she raises an eyebrow at me and all I can do is nod like a fucking idiot. “I was going to say, I don’t think I’ve seen you clean anything the whole time I’ve known you,” she laughs and I scowl at her.

“Oh so now you’re going to insult me, huh?” I try to act pissed off but her full smile and bright eyes are hard to resist. It’s strange how different she looks now compared to when I walked in a few hours ago.

“Is it an insult if it’s true?” 

She places her finger to her chin as if she’s deep in thought, in a cocky professor kind of way. I grab her wrist and tackle her so she’s on her back. She’s thrashing around and laughing so hard she almost has tears in her eyes. I’m so intoxicated by her bubbly mood that I just want to keep her laughing. I grab her other wrist and secure it with her other one, using my free hand to tickle the side of her stomach.

“Oh yeah? So true huh? I might not be able to clean but I definitely know all your ticklish spots, don’t I? So who’s the real boss here?”

“Oh. My. God!” she squeals. “If you keep doing that I’m going to wet myself,” she gasps between breaths while still laughing. 

I stop tickling her but I don’t release her wrists. I hover above her, staring down at her flushed face. She looks up at me and smiles that devastating smile that has always driven me wild. I don’t know why but I can feel a tension building in my body as I continue to hold myself above her, completely in control but helpless at the same time. My brain is screaming at me to get off her but my body refuses to listen. My eyes dip to her lips as she wets them slowly with her tongue and my whole body tingles. I look back up at her eyes for a second before slamming my lips onto hers.

There’s a rush that fills my body the moment Y/N starts to kiss me back, which is almost instantly. My skin erupts with goosebumps and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. As our kiss deepens, I manipulate my tongue between her lips and she moans. Nothing else in the world matters other than that single moan. The pure ecstasy I feel from that one sound, makes me want to make her do it over and over again until her voice is hoarse. I run my hand down her body, lightly caressing her breasts, down her stomach, her thighs. Every time my hand touches her, she moans. 

I pull away from her lips and kiss down her neck and across her collarbones. Not only is she moaning now but her hips are now gyrating against me and it makes all the blood in my body rush to one place. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life and I immediately know I have to do something about it. I grab Y/N’s hand and yank her off the couch and drag her down to her bedroom. I open the door and fling her willing body onto the bed. 

I don’t know why I do it but I look around the room and my eyes, almost automatically, land on a picture of Y/N and Lucas sitting on her bedside table. My body goes cold, all blood draining from where it was and I somehow feel dirty. Y/N is still lying on the bed, panting and dazed from our sudden change of venue. I want to kiss her again. Hell I want to do way more than just kiss her but my mind is pushing its way in in a very nagging sort of way.

‘Why did her and Lucas break up?’ it keeps repeating, over and over again, louder and louder each time.

“Kells, what’s wrong?” Y/N has just realised that I’m still standing at the end of the bed, staring into space.

“I-I. Listen, I’ve wanted this for so long, believe me when I tell you that I can’t believe I’m even asking this fucking question but if I don’t hear the answer, my obsessive brain will bug me forever,” I’m trying my best to explain my intentions but judging by the look on Y/N’s face, I’m not making myself very clear. “Why did you and… Lucas,” I grit my teeth at his name, “break up?” I blurt out with any real tact or consideration for her reaction.

“Wh-what?” she sits up and pulls her knees to her chest, as if she’s trying to cacoon herself from the mention of his name.

I just…You haven’t really spoken to me since it happened and it seemed kind of sudden and I didn’t really know the answer. So when you were asleep, Ashleigh told me to ask you and I didn’t want to wake you so my mind, which was running a million miles an hour may I add, was trying to think about possible reasons why Ashleigh would want me to ask you in the first place and then all the possible reasons why you two did break up after a year. Does that make any sense to you because I’m fucking dizzy.”

“What was the context of your conversation that Ash would tell you to ask me about the break up? You hated him. I would think you of  all people would be glad it’s over, not dwelling on why it ended. You can’t even fucking say his name without gritting your teeth for god’s sake!” she gets to her feet and angrily squares her body in my direction. “I can’t fucking believe that we were just about to do- whatever the fuck we were about to do and YOU, of all people, want to take a timeout to talk about L-Lucas,” she stutters on his name and I can’t help but feel a little guilty but I know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“You still haven’t answered the question and don’t think for a second that what we were about to do, isn’t going to happen. I told you, I’ve waited a long fucking time for this and I want to be 100% focused because I want to remember that moment for the next fucking 20 years or however the fuck long I’ve got. Now, answer the goddamn question.” 

I step up to her and put both hands on the sides of her face to force her to look at me. Her breath hitches a little and returns, hollow and ragged. She bites her bottom lip and I almost lose my self-restraint but I have to hear her answer. Ashleigh told me for a reason. She would never say something just to mess with my head. Y/N sighs and I turn my attention back to her.

“He…well he accused me of being…in love with someone else,” she mumbles while staring down at her feet.

“Ok? So he accused you, how did that end in a breakup?” I’m struggling to see the connection. Just because someone accuses you of something, even cheating, doesn’t automatically make that person right.

“I-I couldn’t…deny it,” she mumbles again and tries to pull away from me. 

I grab her wrists and pull her back to me, not allowing her to escape for even a second. I don’t want to let her go because I don’t want her to change her mind. My mind is racing, trying to pick apart what she’s saying, her lack of eye contact and her general uncomfortable body language. 

‘Wait, is there somebody else?’

I immediately take a step back from Y/N and drop her wrists as that thought crosses my mind. Here I was trying so hard to dissect what she was saying, that I was missing the fucking point entirely! The entire facts are, Lucas accused her of being in love with someone, she couldn’t deny it and so he broke up with her and SHE’S IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. 

“There’s someone else,” I whisper and I hate how defeated my voice sounds. It completely gives away my feeling of utter disappointment.

I don’t think I have the strength to endure watching her in another relationship. Spending all my time secretly wishing it was me that got to kiss her, hold her hand, make her laugh. Resenting the other guy entirely based on a prejudice they don’t even know I have. I mean if I really think about it, was Lucas actually a bad guy or did I just hate him because I wanted to be him? 

It’s Y/N turn to close the gap between us and reach for me. She grabs my large hand in both of her small ones, twisting it around as if she’s studying it deeply. My flesh erupts into goosebumps again at the feeling of her warm touch. She trails a finger up my arm to feel them and lightly traces my tattoos. She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, almost as if she’s hoping her touch will convey her message enough. I want to rip my arm away. Stop her from trying to comfort me, her poor attempt to soften the blow but I’m enjoying the feeling of her touch too much to stop it. I want to savour these last few moments of bliss with her. Before the soul crushing reality hits when I leave her.

“It’s you,” she murmurs so softly, I’m fairly sure that I misheard her and it’s just my shitty brain trying to make myself feel better.

“What?” I duck to reach her eye level and she reluctantly makes eye contact with me.

“Lucas accused me of being in love with you and I couldn’t deny it, so we broke up instead,” she explains matter of factly, as if what she just said hasn’t flipped my entire world and made me see stars.

“What are you talking about?” my brain is trying to connect the dots but it’s failing miserably.

“He started to get suspicious the night we went to the restaurant and he found us outside…talking. He pretty much said from then on that he kept an eye on you in case you made a real move, which obviously you never did,” she chuckles but when I don’t join in, she stops and continues her story. “For months he thought maybe he was just being paranoid and then…one night about 2 months ago, after we came to your place for Casie’s birthday, I had a dream about you and I…well you could imagine. I guess I must’ve said your name in my sleep and then he started to notice little things. Sometimes he’d catch me watching you, the way I’d hug you for a second too long, the way you could always make me laugh, even if no one else in the room found you funny, all the time we spent together just the two of us, our constant texting and phone calls. I guess just my general attitude towards you. He got suspicious and 3 weeks ago he confronted me about being in love with and I…didn’t deny it. He ranted and raved at how he’d wasted the last year of his life with me. He…um… told me once a whore you're nothing more and he left.” 

I’m completely shocked. I don’t know what to say to her. To say I’m ecstatic would be a fucking understatement. I would also like to bash his skull in for calling my sweet, innocent Y/N a whore but I push those feelings down. I feel some satisfaction in knowing that my original opinion of him being a shitty person was right but I just want to focus on the good parts. Like the fact that she didn’t lie about her feelings, just to keep a relationship with said shitty person. I keep replaying it in my head. 

‘She’s in love with me. She’s in love with me. Me, she wants me and no one else.’

“If you could say something out loud, that would really help my blood pressure because I think I’m having a heart attack at the anticipation?” she bites her lip again and stares at me longingly.

“Ash wanted me to ask you why she broke up because she thought it would help me decide whether or not to tell you that I’m in love with you. That was the context of our conversation earlier if you were wondering. I guess what I’m saying is, I think you’re the only one for me and I think I’ve known that for a long time.” Y/N smiles shyly at me and drops her eyes back to my hand.

“Damn. I guess in some sick way, I owe Lucas 50 bucks,” she laughs and drags me to the bed with her.

“Wait, why would you owe that asshole anything?” I stumble behind her, confused but curious.

“He sarcastically bet me $50 that you felt the same way as me but I snorted in his face and called me a deranged man. I guess he had a right to be suspicious of you,” she grins at me as she sits on the bed and I sit down next to her.

I don’t really want to think about him anymore. I want to enjoy this moment with Y/N, without the distraction of anyone else. For now it’s just the two of us who know what we’ve just confessed to and it feels sexy and exciting. Right now, I can kiss her freely, I can touch her without being cautious, I can make her moan and come apart under me, above me, in front of me. Which reminds me.

“Before we take this any further, I think you should tell me what that dream was that made you moan my name?” I smirk at her and she instantly blushes bright red. She grabs the collar of my t-shirt again and drags my face towards her.

“How about instead of telling you, I just show you?” she asks while innocently batting her eyes at me and all the blood in my body rushes back to the only spot that matters right now.

One year later

From that day onwards, we were inseparable. I’ve never been so in love with any woman in my entire life and I spend every waking moment showing it. Y/N was right. Lucas should’ve been suspicious of me the whole damn time they were together because now that she’s mine, I’m never letting her go. 

We ran into him at a party once and to say that guy hates me, is an understatement. I never meant to brag but having her on my arm when we walked into that party and seeing his face drop, I couldn’t help but feel a little pride. He fucking has it out for me and didn’t keep himself from showing it but it didn’t stop me from wearing the biggest smile and for that, I will never apologise. I have the woman I love more than life itself and I will spend the rest of my life making her wildest dreams come true, not one of them involving him.

[dreamsofminnie]

“Ethereal Paintings”

18~ Inazuma Reunion☂️

Scaramouche x Reader smau | Word Count: 1,069 (!!)

(No unnecessary stuff, only the juisy parts😋)

An hour earlier Yoimiya and Ayaka strolled beside you hand in hand. After they ganged up on you as early as 7 in the morning they popped the request of your attendance at the Inazuma reunion party. You only agreed since Ayato was the host and he would definitely supply the best bubble tea available. Oh how you wished to leave.

Not without a certain someone who you were surprised to see at this reunion.

Staring back at those beautiful purple eyes you painted as the gemstones of your world, you snap back at the conversation at hand. “Ooh~ Interesting topic this time. A.I art has been ravaging the art world. That one A.I that won the art award was sooo—“

Yoimiya patted the back of your head as you lowered it just to get you up and walking towards the bathroom without a word. Her hand then moved back up to pat your head with a wry strained smile. “Bathroom is always a safe zone my little lady” She grinned when you brought your head back up with your heart less clenched.

“..thank you Yoi.” Your voice was distant even to yourself. The change in topic to an absurd one was ruining your patience and will to stay even longer.

“If those idiots keep talking about redacted by the time we get back, I’m leaving. Rather not spew out my anger in such a nice cafe as this one.”

“Yosh! Now wash that pretty face of yours and let's face that disaster of a reunion party.” Yoimiya checked her phone with the messages that Ayaka has been blowing up while you followed Yoi’s order.

The cold water on your face was refreshing. A swift thought of unspeakable horror crossed you mind for a millisecond. ‘If this water is so refreshing how ‘bout staying within it till a last breath.’ The hairs on your neck and arms pricked. What’s wrong with your head today.

Shaking your head Yoi reeled you back to reality, “Ah… Ayaka is telling me how Ayato is trying to tame those motherfuckers from babbling about A.I art when they know how precious traditional art is.” This reunion was one where most people were in an art class together. Most kept the pursuit in art while others tried out something else.

“Tainting the name of art shall not be forgiven.” Your vision faltered in and out of rage, the coolness of the water forgotten and dried on your face.

Jumping up you snapped your head to Yoimiya who popped a candy in your mouth in your fury, the sweet taste melted your anger. “You're not you when you deprive sweets, issss, what my grandma always told me!” She passed you a few more as you munched on them in joy.

“Did I mention how much I love you Yoi” The gentle smile towards you best friend got her giggling and embracing you tightly. “Hehe, not enough times y/n!~”

“Now let’s get going to assess the situation before we ditch.” Popping all the candy you had into your mouth, you were prepared to face this beast now.

Rolling around the sweet candy between your tongue, your hearing stimulated even more so. Just to find a proper reason in their convo to leave immediately.

“Raise your hands if you do!~ Judgement free zone!” A few of the table raised their hands when the girl announced that.

Confused you try and pick up signs for what might’ve conspired just now. Ayato sitting at the head of the table kept his face steady, his gaze was in a certain direction but was slightly frantic and also pointed them at you and Yoimiya. Not a good enough clue. Ayaka was silent and didn’t raise nor spoke the entire time you guys came back. She sat next to her brother and had a pale blank face as if concealing her emotions for the sake of someone. Yoimiya tended to her girlfriend which didn’t interest you. You were, however, curious in the works of Scaramouche who sat in front of you.

He raised his hand, however faintly, to that unknown question. His eyes which followed you ever since you entered and caught sight of him, were now in avoidance of yours. Tapping your foot against his, he finally looked you in the eye. His gaze was weak. His body jolted secretly but caught his composure in time. Not two seconds longer his gaze turned harsh and he averted his attention elsewhere.

“That’s a good amount if i'm honest. I’m not the only one~”

You seriously wanted to fry this girl, whatever she was talking about, it was hidden between these people here who heard. Not for you or Yoi who were cowering in the bathroom. The girl who has been leading the conversations the whole time was the past class leader but also one who used to seethe at the sight of your perfect artworks. She did once manage to destroy one of your proud works while pinning it on someone else. And she got away with it.

Getting annoyed again with that girl’s nonsense you were going to tell Yoimiya and Ayaka to leave with her, but was mildly surprised to see Scaramouche getting up and the first to make his exit.

Yoimiya, Ayaka and you locked gazes then as you gestured with a tilt to your head they nodded.

“We are going to head out as well. It was nice seeing you all again.” Ayaka dipped her head in a bow and looked at her brother for a split second before leading us out the cafe.

“Gaaahh. It was so constricting in there.” Stretching your arms above your head Yoimiya followed along and sighed in relief.

“I don’t know how you and Ayato deal with people like this almost daily. So stuffy.” Ayaka smiled with a hint of exhaustion.

“These occurrences are super tiring if I may. Ayato handles these better than me.” Ayaka drooped down as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

You hum as you three keep walking back towards the dorm. “I just want a nice good nap right now. Layla’s room is the best environment for one!~”

You knew the thoughts swarming in your head didn’t allow sleep to engulf you this time. So Layla’s sleeping fragrance and herbs will be enough to knock you out.

You had stuff to uncover tomorrow.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Synopsis{2}-> Many study dates and flirting over weeks drew you both close. Awkwardness still drew a line between you both but it was enough for a start. Admiring him from the sidelines wasn't enough, however, pieces of the false facade start to shred; and fate has ways of twisting your heartstrings — Is he really– …

YUMMY FOOD😋😋 No textfic bc thats for next chap

I didn’t want to bother w the ‘walking to the cafe’ ‘saying hi to every person’ and idle chat😒

So tht was deleted an instead I put the good bits

I actually had this scenario planned out in my head for a long while, im glad its out now

I need the extra space in my head for exams😵‍💫

//Taglist//

@akagism2 @pokidot @feiherp @kyouzki @rmiyuki @infe-risk0 @sakurapeach @bluebelony @kichiyoshi @mikctp @kur44pika @cupids-chamber @crucnhice @neigesprincess @scaramoo @gojoandelsalovechilde @childeslegstrap @sakiimeo @d4y-dr3am3r @m3gitsune @scarletttcroww @sashiette @beriiov @rizakari @xiaossocksniffer @lxry-chxn @bryai003 @eunchaeluvr @goj0h @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @sketcheeee @ozzierenato @ohmyfinggod

[collidescopeeyes]

Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 2

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Again, you're expecting that to be the last you see of him, but now with a vague hope that maybe he'll figure out how to be a decent human being again. Again, you're wrong.

“Are you well?” He asks, once again appearing from fucking nowhere. It's a fair question–you’re covered in blood. However, he asks it like he's just caught you doing something strange, and not like you're half dead on the floor.

You wave a vague hand at him from where you're slumped against a wall. “Trying to converse with things that's literal only purpose in life is to eat you is…bad. It's bad. I would not recommend it.”

He tilts his head, brow pinched. “Would you like me to kill it?”

You blink, surprised and inappropriately a little flattered by the offer, but shake your head. “God, that would be nice, but no.” You grimace down at your blood soaked clothes. You should rewind them, but you're so fucking tired. “Time is harder to manipulate here than I'm used to, and Voidspawn heal fast. If I could just…fucking smite them, I'd be fine, but no, I've gotta follow the motherfucker around stabbing it just enough to slow it down while I try to convince it to divulge trade secrets to me. Hence,” you gesture around you at the bone spines and discarded throwing knives, and then at your blood stained clothes. You…should probably go, actually. Cho’gath would be healed up soon, and it's probably coming back for round…fuck, you don't know, thirteen? You groan and begin the arduous process of trying to lever yourself up the wall when your legs feel like jelly.

Viego offers you a hand, and you're so tired you don't think twice about taking it. His gauntlets are cold against your skin. The world sways disorientingly as you stand, and you blink muzzily at his concerned expression as you try to remain upright. “Hey, Viego?” You say vaguely. “Do me a favor and take me somewhere…not here, if I pass out. I think Cho’gath will probably come back and eat me, otherwise.”

His brow creases and he opens his mouth, presumably to ask you what the fuck you're on about, and that's all you see before everything goes black.

–

You wake up to the musty smell of old linens. You groggily pry open one eye to confirm your suspicions that yes, obviously, Viego brought you to the Shadow Isles, of course he did. In fact, Viego is seated on what looks like it used to be a couch, watching you. His posture is tense, and the mist pouring from his heart is particularly thick. It takes you a moment to realize the room is decaying around you, thousands of years passing in seconds.

You sit up, waving a hand in the general direction of the walls, and everything blurs for a moment before returning to the way it was. Well, the way it was like last week, no point actually restoring anything. That being said, you're surprised the blankets don't disintegrate as they pool around your waist. “Are you watching me sleep?” You croak. He doesn't answer, but his lips do pinch a little. “You know that's a weird thing to do, right?”

He sits back finally, his posture going from ‘inches from ghost zwei’ to ‘this may as well be a throne’. “Did you find what you were looking for?” Subtle change of subject, but you don't push him on it. God knows it took you long enough to figure out how to be a person again, it would be the height of hypocrisy for you call him on being abrupt.

You sigh deeply. “Nope. The Voidborne are put here with the burning desire to consume all of reality and exactly enough intelligence to not get killed doing it. The finer points of interdimensional travel are, as far as I can tell, lost on them.” You rub your temples tiredly. “That is, if they're even deliberately designed. If what we know as the Void is really just an allergic reaction of true nothingness to reality, they could just be the antibodies.” He's looking at you like he has no idea what you're talking about and this is somehow your fault. Again. You sigh again, crossing your arms on your bent knees. “For the moment, my only bet is to keep my ear to the ground and hope.”

For a moment you sit in silence. “I know what it feels like, to be so far from home with no way back,” he offers somberly. You glance at him, then at the ruined room you're in.

“Do you even remember what it was like, before?” You ask quietly.

He hesitates. “Some. I do not know how much I can trust my own mind, but…some.” He glances up at a molded painting hanging on the wall, now so faded you have no idea what it was meant to depict. “I think…this room belonged to my aunt. I remember she had a very ugly painting of her late-husband, which was funny, because she was the one who had him assassinated.” He frowns at the rotting frame. “For…a mistress? No, no. No, he was addicted to gambling, and bet away…” he pauses, then laughs under his breath. “He bet her favorite horse. He won, but she was so offended that she changed his will to bequeath all of his belongings to the horse instead, and then arranged for him to have an accident on a hunting trip. His son was very upset.”

You laugh disbelievingly. “Over a horse? There’s no way she got away with that.”

His brow furrows in concentration. “She was planning to cut ties with the family anyway, I believe. Too many gambling debts. The son was arrested not long after, or killed, I'm not sure. He was in no position to contest the verdict, in any case.”

“Huh. And you put me in your aunt's room because…?” You trail off expectantly.

He blinks at you as if he doesn't understand the question. “It was the first room I found with an intact bed.”

You look down at the fraying, musty sheets. “This is intact?” You look up at him, suddenly concerned. “You aren't sleeping in here, right?”

“I do not sleep,” he replies.

“You can't, or you don't need to?” You clarify. He doesn't answer. Your eyes narrow. “You haven't tried.”

“I had more important matters to attend to,” he says, managing to sound very pompous about it.

You roll your eyes. “Well, you don't anymore, and furthermore just laying down with your eyes closed is still more restful than what you've been doing, which I assume is brooding in the seated position. Get over here.” You pat the expanse of bed next to you, and under your hands it reverts to a state of newness, the faded covers becoming plush and clean in lush blues.

He blinks at you, uncomprehending. He opens his mouth as if to argue, and then closes it. Shockingly, without another word, he stands and crosses to the other side of the bed, and lays down on top of the covers. The mattress sinks under his weight, but the bed is so outrageously large that there's still plenty of space between you.

“Okay, now close your eyes,” you instruct.

“I remember how to sleep,” he says, sounding annoyed.

“If I know you, Viego, you're just gonna think about how miserable your existence is,” you say calmly. He doesn't contradict you. “So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna pick something in the room to focus on, a sound or a sensation or a smell, like the texture of the blankets or something. You're gonna try and keep your attention on just that thing. If your focus starts wandering, whether it's to something unhappy or just a thought, simply note what it went to and then gently bring your attention back to your anchor.”

“And this is supposed to make me happy?” He says dryly.

You shake your head. “No. But being just okay is the first step to being happy, and not torturing yourself is a skill that needs practice like any other.”

He doesn't say anything further. You take a moment to reflect on the fact that you're teaching fucking meditation techniques to a dead king from a video game. That being said, mental health awareness was abysmal in this world, you can't imagine Viego was taught any distress tolerance skills back when he was alive either. You guess the job just fell to you then.

You don't remember falling asleep, but you wake up to Viego's gentle breathing. When you look to your side, he looks like a classical painting, pale eyelashes brushing high cheekbones, lips slightly parted. He also sleeps like a vampire, ramrod straight with his hands folded on his bare stomach, his crown still casting a soft glow over his pale skin. You're struck with the urge to see if the hair splayed out on his pillow is as soft as it looks, but you don't want to die any more than you already have today, so you leave it.

You inch your way out of bed so as not to wake him, and are about to rewind yourself away when he makes a pained little noise. His brows are furrowed, and his arm is flung out to the empty side of the bed. He whimpers again, and you can see the faint glow of his eyes darting around behind his lids. You remember that this is a man who simply chose not to sleep at all for however long he's been back, rather than sleep alone. You wonder if he slept at all, after Isolde died, before she killed him.

You slip back under the covers, his arm still over your waist over the thick blankets, and his expression slowly smooths. As you listen to his breathing even out, you wonder what in the genuine fuck you're doing.

He's gone when you wake up again.

—

You are reluctantly forced to admit that this may be a regular occurrence. This is your life now, you guess–you’ve imprinted the Ruined King like he's a lost duckling, and he follows you around exactly like one. It's certainly not for the change of scenery, at least–you’ve heard rumors of Ryze in Ionia, so you're just wandering around hoping to run into some trace of him. Viego, apparently, sees fit to wander with you.

He shows up while you’re pouring over your notes, trying to find something, someone, anything you missed, and he criticizes your handwriting. He appears behind you while you're walking and laughs when you startle so badly you drop the trail rations you were eating, as if he doesn't even notice the knife you were about to launch into his skull. He ominously hovers behind you while you're setting up camp and rudely doesn't let you know he's there until you're halfway through singing a very crude song, upon which he asks what a brazilian wax is. Now, he appears in a swirl of mist while you're being jumped by bandits and beheads their leader.

“I’d rather you hadn't done that,” you sigh, approaching the still-cooling corpse. You had been trying to talk them down, before Viego appeared from the sudden roiling mist looking like wrath incarnate. The rest of the bandits are fleeing in terror, and Viego pauses mid-stride where he was obviously about to chase and cut the rest of them down.

“What?” He asks, obviously baffled and a little affronted.

“I said, I’d rather you hadn't killed that guy,” you say a little louder, kneeling down by the man's body. You touch his shoulder, and the body disappears, only to reappear instantly exactly as it was before Viego cut his head off. The man promptly chokes on his own spit, clutching his own neck as he recalls what just happened to him. You stand, brushing your skirts off, and the bandit stares between you and Viego with wide, panicked eyes.

“P-please, I have children, I-I just–We weren't gonna hurt youse, I swear, we just wanted to spook you into giving up your gold, please, they ain't got no one but me–” he babbles, dropping to his knees.

You reach into your bag and pull a few coins from your purse. The man flinches when you hold out your hand. “Alright, enough of that. Take this as an apology for the beheading and get out of here.” His eyes flick between the gold, you and Viego for a moment. Then he snatches the coins and almost trips over himself trying to run away while also bowing and thanking you profusely.

“They were going to kill you,” Viego points out irritably.

You give him an unimpressed look. “Do you think I'm not capable of defending myself?”

“No, but I don't see what the point of letting such people live is,” Viego argues, dropping his sword. When his hands leave it, it disintegrates into mist as quickly as it appeared.

You squint at him disbelievingly. “You really weren't cut out to be a king, were you?” He gives you a deeply offended look, and you rub your face. “Okay, look. Do you know where we are right now?”

He glances around, eyes lingering on the plants on the road and the trees in the forest. “Ionia, I believe.”

You nod. “And are you aware that Ionia is currently being invaded by Noxus?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asks, annoyed.

“It has to do with the fact these people are just trying to survive,” you point out, equally on edge. “If they wanted to kill me and rob me, they would've ambushed me instead of putting on this big show of surrounding me and demanding I hand over my valuables,” you explain, gesturing around you. “Would they have killed me if they needed to? Probably, yeah, but that wasn't their goal. Did you actually look at them? They're starving men trying to find a way to make enough coin for them and theirs to live.”

“You believe his story?” He asks dryly.

You tilt your head at him, baffled. “It's not an uncommon one. Please tell me this isn't the first time you've considered there could be complex socioeconomic factors behind criminal activity. You were a king.”

His eyes go slightly unfocused, as they always do when you bring up his past. “I…” he trails off, clearly deep in thought. “I left such matters to my advisors,” he finally recalls, with what looks like a lot of effort. “It was not, ah…something I was taught how to handle.”

You squint at him. “What do you mean, you weren't taught? You were royalty, you're literally raised for it.”

He shrugs, clearly agitated. “I wasn't meant to be king. I was the youngest prince, I was taught court etiquette and fine arts, not governorship.”

“Then why the fuck were you put in charge?” You ask, baffled.

He pauses. “I don't know. I don't remember. I just was.” He shakes his head, as if trying to dispel an unpleasant thought. His foggy memory clearly frustrates him.

You sigh, relenting. “Look, I understand you were just trying to help, I just…I don't like people dying because of me. I know you don't remember dying, but it sucks, and bringing people back from it is a huge pain in the ass.”

He eyes you warily. “You're not about to pass out again, are you?”

“That happened once,” you defend yourself, before realizing that it's probably a real concern as far as he knows. “But if I do, feel free to bring me back to your creepy castle. Hey, that bed is still nice, right?” You ask as the thought occurs to you. “I wasn't sure it'd stick. Big changes sometimes don't.”

He blinks, and this is a new expression on Viego–abashed. You hadn't spoken about that night, but he clearly feels somewhat awkward about it, because he's avoiding your gaze like it burns. “Yes, it is,” he says tightly, then clears his throat. “Anyway, I came to make a request of you.” Viego loves to change to subject when he's uncomfortable, you've noticed.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Oh?”

He closes the space between you, and from inside his torn coat produces a faded book. “Could you restore this for me?”

You take the thing carefully, because it looks like it could crumble to dust in your hands. “What is it?”

“I do not know. I found it in the castle and I recognized the spine, so it must be–” you wind the book's time back, and in your hands the crisp gold text ‘Sweet Savage Love' stares back at you. You look up at Viego, and he has his eyes closed as if he's hoping whatever force is keeping him alive will spontaneously fail.

“You used to read bodice rippers?” You ask gleefully.

“Apparently,” he sighs deeply, taking the book from you and flipping it over. You crowd up against his side to read the back cover, standing on your tippy toes. Instantly, you see why he remembers it–it's a love story between a prince and a commoner. He lets out a soft huff, and tucks it into his jacket once more. You don't like the tiredness in his eyes.

“So you were always a sap, huh?” You muse. You feel the urge to try and cheer him up, which is insane because Viego’s defining character trait after being the wife guy is being miserable. “Maybe I should get you some new ones. I'm sure the art form has advanced in the last thousand years or so.”

“Perhaps I should kill you after all,” he muses, looking down at you, though his tone is so lamenting you don't think he's being serious. You realize you're still very close to each other, arms touching, and he hasn't moved away. Then again, he probably hasn't had much in the way of casual physical contact since he came back to life. You're sure that had no long lasting psychological ramifications.

“As if,” you say casually, knocking your shoulder against his as you flounce off. You're not sure if you mean, as if you could or as if you would, but it gets your point across.

–

Viego is sort of like a cat, you realize. He doesn't really ask for attention so much as he hovers around you until you give it.

“You still eat, right?” You say casually, stirring your pot of stew. You're getting good at noticing when he appears by the drop in temperature. He doesn't respond, and you look at him to find a familiar pinched look on his face. He's seated just inside the ring of your firelight, lounging on the ground as if it were the most comfortable seat in the world. You wonder if he practiced that pose. “You haven't tried,” you guess from his face.

“There is very little to eat in the shadow isles,” he says, a little defensively.

“And yet you seem to spend an awful lot of time out of it,” you note, amused. You then immediately pause as a thought occurs to you. “Wait, how do you keep following me, anyway?”

He tilts his head to the side, as if he's a curious animal. “I’m not quite sure. The Mist clings to you as if you were a wraith, but you are not bound by its borders. It follows you, but can find no purchase on your soul with which to keep you. It's as if you are alive and dead all at once.”

You blink, then sigh deeply. “That figures.” You fish two bowls out of your bag and begin to ladle stew into it. He looks puzzled as you hand him one, and then even more so when you plop down next to him and start eating.

“Don't tell me you're too good for beef stew?” You say teasingly, nudging his knee with yours.

He blinks as if he's coming out of a trance. “I don't believe I've ever had this dish,” he says, and to your relief begins taking off his gauntlets. You hate to think whose insides those things have got on them–he’s still wearing the same clothes he died in, after all, give or take magically blasting half his shirt off.

It takes you a moment to actually process his words, but when you do you turn to him aghast. “Beef stew? You've never had beef stew? God, what's the fucking point of being royalty if they didn't even feed you right?”

He’s looking at his food like he's not sure what he's supposed to do with it. His hands are oddly delicate for the heavy gauntlets he wears, with the long slender fingers of a pianist. “Stews were considered commoner food. Usually we would be served roasts or fish or…” you hand him a slice of sourdough you cut earlier, and he blinks. “Or bread, yes.”

It's kind of adorable how he watches you use your bread to scoop stew into your mouth before doing the same, as if he wants to be sure he's doing it right. His eyes widen slightly when he takes the first bite, and you have to hand him two more slices of bread before you finish your one. You were expecting to have leftovers, but there's something satisfying in watching him eat.

After, you clean your bowls and the pot with a twist of time, and then lay your bedroll out next to the fire. All the while, Viego sits and watches you. Normally he would have left by now.

You pause as you're fluffing your pillow. “You know, you're welcome to stay,” you offer, because you're pretty sure he will if he wants to anyway, and you offering first makes the whole situation seem slightly less insane. It's not like you mind the company–wandering around Ionia isn't the most entertaining on its own. “I don't have another bedroll or anything though.”

He inclines his head in what you think is acknowledgement, and doesn't move. Like a cat, you think as you climb into your bedroll, just wanting to exist in the same space as you. Or maybe it just gets to be too much for him, in the skeletal remains of his old life, and yours is the only face still friendly to him. You look at him in the firelight and see a lonely, lonely man who just wanted, for a time, to not be alone.

He's gone in the morning, of course.