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raveneira · 3 months ago

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I read the manga and Sarada's character is getting more and more astonishing, oh my god I don't understand anymore her life is only about Boruto, Boruto and Boruto like there is no character development at all she even only thinks about Boruto as if she forgot about Sumire who is beside her that girl I don't understand her character any more. I followed the manga and it became increasingly uncontrollable, very ridiculous, I also sent it with Kawaki and by God, I was very annoyed with the passengers on the sibling ship, they treated everything as if it was just for them, banned all ships and spoke ill of my ship like ksa & bsu, I don't understand So what does the official art mean which always puts them next to each other? What does the camellia flower and the like mean or what does Sumire's feelings mean which has been emphasized many times for Boruto not to mention yesterday's cover? With Boruto, is it not enough to board this ship? what do you think? I'm very annoyed with all the nonsense of people who don't actually know how to read manga or don't, plus the fake news they give so that everyone will believe it, gosh, I just want to see the progress of Sarada and Kawaki, I'm fed up with that girl who seems like she was just made to revolve around boruto characters looks annoying like that

No fr, ppl keep acting like oh your just mad about the ship when its so much more than that, this has gone BEYOND the ship atp, Sarada has completely lost all individuality, all autonomy, everything about her, has all been thrown away in favor of making her some OOC Boruto obsessed MESS.

Like look at this shit

Sarada learns about her fathers past OFF SCREEN and the only reason shes talking about it is to defend Boruto, not her father, but just to say shes defending Boruto the way Naruto defended Sasuke, I must emphasize that her father is considered a traitor too but thats not who shes riding or dying for.

Sarada is so careless and hyperfixated on clearing Borutos name that she stupidly almost blows their cover, forgetting that Ada is not their FRIEND or their ALLY but the literal got danm enemy, yet her mind is so fixated on a danm boy shes not even registering that in her head when shes talking to Ada, the one who actually remembers their mission is Sumire and SHES the one who stops Ada's suspicions, Sarada literally just sat there lookin stupid not saying anything because apparently if it isnt about Boruto she dont know how to open her mouth.

Even though Code is technically talking about Kawaki here, its still disgusting that Sarada's first encounter with Code is literally just for him to ask her where Boruto is, and then try to use her as bait to lure him out thats only there for Boruto to swoop in and have a 'chad' moment and essentially tell Code this is why he gets no bitches.

This is all only just Sarada's first appearance in the timeskip and its literally all about Boruto, not a single bit of her panel time wasnt about Boruto.

But theres 14 chapters so lets see how the other 13 goes.

Her first time seeing Boruto in 3 years and he returns without Sasuke, what does she do? Boruto tells her to leave and go help the civilians, Sarada asks if hes sure, he says yea and like an obedient dog she does as shes told never once asking where her father is, only if hes sure he wants to deal with Code alone.

She lets her guard down in the middle of an invasion and gets somebody nommed trying to protect her, this isnt inherently a big deal on its own but this will not be the first or the last time this happens.

She makes this stupid remark, once again, acting like Ada is their friend and ally when shes actually the got danm enemy, even if Ada did confirm it it wouldnt matter anyway because they'd just not believe her just like they dont believe Sarada about his innocence, and even if they did believe it Sarada's attitude here is stupid af because she talks as if their stupid for suspecting Boruto just cuz shes the only one with blind faith in him. Its not exactly a good look that Boruto literally says hes trying to make a deal with Code, their enemy, so for her to act like their suspicions are unfounded just cuz she blindly trusts him is stupid.

Not only that but her comback at Kawaki is also unwarranted because she knew danm well what he meant but is purposefully acting oblivious because she, like everyone else before omnipotence, DOESNT wanna face the reality that Boruto is a got danm threat, hes not JUST Boruto anymore, he is LITERALLY Boruto Otsutsuki, an Otsutsuki 100%, his and Momos dna have merged to the point that their minds were starting to become one, his karma has worsened to the point where now Boruto cannot even use it without losing control.

Sure Sarada doesnt know that part yet, but what she DOES know is that hes 100% Otsutsuki, that Momoshiki has taken over his body numerous times, that he stabbed her fathers eye, tried to kill Naruto and Kawaki more than once, that Boruto himself WILLINGLY sacrificed himself, begging Kawaki to kill him so that he wouldnt lose control again and kill the ppl he loves, she saw Momo take over again with her own eyes to save Kawaki, yet she has the audacity to compare Kawaki being Otsutsuki to Boruto being Otsutsuki when hes not the one at risk of being taken over and killin everybody.

She makes this equally goofy remark that she wont let him have his way in Konoha, which is hilarious because for 3 years straight that exactly what he's done, hes completely had his way in Konoha while shes been totally ignored and made ZERO progress, so shes talkin a big game but actions speak louder than words, shes all bark and no bite.

She conveniently doesnt acknowledge what Kawaki says here either because she doesnt care, she doesnt wanna acknowledge that Kawaki is right about the threat Boruto is, she doesnt wanna acknowledge that Kawaki isnt just some cold hearted evil guy who just wanna kill all Otsutsuki, and Boruto, for the lolz, but is actually going above and beyond trying to protect everyone in the way he genuinely feels in right.

Sarada is in an extreme case of denial to the point she doesnt even acknowledge reality, notice how at no point not even in part one does she acknowledge the threat that Boruto is or the things he has done while he was possessed, she, like Boruto, kept and in her case still IS pretending that everything is fine when its NOT.

This is by far where Sarada is at her worst, the one and only time she speaks about her dad is simply recalling how he managed to believe her despite omnipotence, the ONE time she thinks about her dad and its about her being able to convince him to save Boruto, NOT the fact that Boruto came back without him and wondering how he is, no, just how her dad believed her about Boruto. Oh but it gets so much worse.

Boruto isnt being specific here, ppl can try to twist it all they want but all Boruto says here is that Sasuke risked his life to save his, I must emphasize this is the SECOND time now Boruto has returned without her dad, and now hes saying how he risked his life to save his, WTF DO YOU THINK THATS IMPLYING HERE? anybodys first thought would be that Sasuke DIED because if he didnt why didnt he come back with Boruto? Boruto is being vague af, he says that Sasuke believed in him, that he risked his life to save his, and Sasuke is nowhere to be found as hes saying this, there is literally NO other way to read this than Boruto implying that Sasuke is dead.

And what does Sarada do?

She knows how Sumire feels about Boruto btw.

This...is absolutely disgusting, if Boruto had left on his own this whole time then this scene wouldnt be bad at all, she was worried about her friend and is happy to see him alive and well, but thats not what happened.

Sarada begs her father in literal tears to go save Boruto, she awakens her MS from that desperate request which is what convinces Sasuke to leave behind EVERYTHING, his wife, his home, his daughter, all to protect a kid he doesnt even remember and believes killed his best friend solely because his daughter asked him to, and for 3 years Sasuke and Boruto have been missing with their status unknown until Boruto comes back, but he comes back ALONE which wouldnt happen unless something bad happened to Sasuke.

With this context, having Boruto return twice without Sasuke, and then implying he was dead, you would think his daughter would ask what happened to him? is he ok? but she not only doesnt ask, but she CUTS BORUTO OFF to hug him and ask what took him so long...

Oh but it somehow gets even WORSE, because THIS is what she thinks after the fact.

Dis-gust-ing, like legitimately disgusting, shes sitting there fixating on being embarrassed about the hug and then has the audacity to say to herself that theres so many things she wants to ask but doesnt know how to start.

Maybe you wouldnt have had to worry about that IF YOU HAD JUST FKING LISTENED TO HIM WHEN HE WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU.

Also idc how embarrassed she is about the hug, it is absolutely ABYSMAL writing that she doesnt think to ask about her dad even once, she literally DOES NOT CARE. The fact that she was so awkward that Sumire had to break the ice because once again Sarada apparently forgot how to talk but had no problem running into Borutos arms calling him stupid and askin what took him so long, but now that its time to ask about her dad? suddenly shes mute.

Do you know how crazy it is that she had more of an reaction to Boruto teasing her about the hug than she did hearing her dad had been turned into a tree? idc if he is alive, having zero reaction to your father, who YOU sent away which is what allowed this to happen, to have zero reaction to him being trapped in a tree because of YOUR request is absolutely disgusting.

Whats worse is Sasuke's final words before sacrificing himself were for Boruto to look after her, his final thoughts were literally of his daughter and wanting her to be safe, but Sarada? 0 thoughts or care about him

Do you know how crazy it is that BORUTO had to be the one to bring up her father again because she didnt? it took Boruto bringing it up a second time for her to finally ask about him, if Boruto didnt bring it up again, Sarada would've continued going back and forth about the stupid hug.

Boruto pretty much confirms hes the one whos gonna settle things with her dad, the fact that he says this with zero consideration of her speaks volumes all on its own, like what do you mean you'll save Sasuke? shouldnt Sarada be included in that? I mean it IS her dad right? but nah of course she isnt gonna be involved in that plot, because its not about Sasuke, Sarada's father, its about Sasuke, Boruto's master.

The plot isnt about daughter rescuing father, nor is it about father protecting daughter, its about Boruto atoning for his guilt of getting his master who he idolized in this situation, and making it up to Sarada who sent Sasuke his way in the first place, it is about Boruto honoring Sasuke's final wishes.

I want you to really think about that, a plotline about rescuing Sasuke is more about Boruto than it is Sarada and shes being left out of the plot altogether.

Well not totally

She's his tree clones target to devour, which is once again more about Boruto than it is her cuz its used to have her be a damsel in distress for Boruto to pull a cool last second heroic save.

Now this moment isnt inherently bad on its own...if not for everything that happened leading up to it.

Sumire warns that Sarada is the target, Sarada gets distracted and zapped anyway

Sumire is worried about her and trying to get her to move, but Sarada is paralyzed and unable to

One of the jonin that tried to protect her is burned to death in flames

Konohamaru tries to protect her but is knocked back

Sumire continues trying to get Sarada to move and is zapped unconscious

All of this happens before Boruto gets there, I must emphasize that Sarada was paralyzed and unable to move that whole time which is why 3 ppl got bodied trying to protect her, yet as soon as Boruto got there all of a sudden she was able to move and help fight.

She couldnt help ANYBODY ELSE who were trying to protect her, no she was crippled, couldnt move, couldnt help anyone who was trying to help her, but as SOON as Boruto arrives all of a sudden shes on her feet and able to assist him.

Dont you think its awful odd that she finally got the 'strength' to fight again only when it was to help Boruto get the win? oh and lets not forget the total lack of gratitude she had for anyone that tried to help her but Boruto, one of which literally DIED for her and yet she feels zero guilt, remorse, or gratitude for their efforts.

Imagine saying this to the ppl who just got their ass whooped to protect you, Sumire was so worried about Sarada that she didnt even pay attention to the enemy approaching her, and Konohamaru got knocked back when trying to protect her and barely escaped with his life if he hadnt reacted in time, yet the ONLY ONE who matters in her rescue is Boruto, he's the only one she gives any credit for her life being spared, idc if the rest failed, they still TRIED to help her and one literally DIED, yet she gives zero fks about any of them.

So when ppl try to pretend that this is just about ships, that oh your just mad because its not your ship, your just mad bsa is winning and your not, its complete bullshit and they know it too, they just pretend they dont cuz it works in their favor and thats all that matters to them.

This is about way more than ship preference, this is about blatant character assassination and bad writing that is objectively abysmal no matter how you look at it.

Even when going to the battlefield before it was even known Boruto is there, who does Sarada think about? Himawari, JUST Himawari despite knowing team 10 is there too, which includes Chocho, her bestie, but apparently she doesnt matter to her anymore because of a boy, so the only conclusion I can make for her worry for Himawari is the fact that shes Boruto's sister, because she danm sure didnt care about anyone else there in the same danger she was.

If you wanna know how how bad Sarada's writing is compare her writing to the other girls so far, Sumire is still working with Amado, asking him about Kawaki, trying to get intel outta him, shes also the one whos still conscious of their mission of eventually killing Ada and plays along to not blow their cover.

Chocho, with the rest of team 10, is helping to train Himawari and have seemed to been looking after her over the 3 years since her parents disappearance, and in her fight with Jura Chocho refused to leave her and had to be convinced, the two then promise to go get pancakes together which Himawari says is her fave

Himawari is shown believing in Boruto (Kawaki) despite everyone elses doubts, believing her father is still alive, working hard to get stronger so she could help her brother and her new friends [team 10] and she awakened Kuramas power due to her wanting to protect and save Inojin who almost died protecting her.

Notice how all of them have thoughts, feelings, goals, things going on outside of just Boruto?

The final nail in the coffin is her dressing like this mf, even with Mitsuki being as obsessed with Boruto as he is never sunk this low as to dress like him, even with him not believing his 'sun' is Kawaki, you dont see him dressing up as Kawaki either, this is literally just a Sarada exclusive thing which is just so bad for her character its pathetic.

Fk Ikemoto for what he did to her, there is no excuse or justification for this.

So what does the official art mean which always puts them next to each other? What does the camellia flower and the like mean or what does Sumire's feelings mean which has been emphasized many times for Boruto not to mention yesterday's cover? With Boruto, is it not enough to board this ship? what do you think?

Unfortunately I cant answer this, cuz its become clear since this interview that the anime team and Ikemoto were not on the same page AT ALL and essentially were tellings two different stories so even I dont know whats real, still canon, and whats not anymore. We just gotta wait and see.

For now its safe to say it still means what we thought until confirmed otherwise, so for not just stick to that until further notice.

#boruto manga #manga spoilers #rave responds #anti-bsa

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thousandbuns · 2 years ago

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Oh yeah baby, it’s time for the unhinged, unscheduled and unstructured Ylthin rambles, today’s topic: loose thoughts on the overall structure of “Horus Rising” (based on my increasingly more faded memories so forgive me for any inaccuracies) and how it contrasts the first few chapters of “Flight of the Eisenstein”.

*cough*

So, in no particular order, and jumping around subjects a bit...

Remembrancers. I know you probably don’t care about them because they’re either annoying, forgettable, blatant writer self-inserts so that Graham McNeill can ogle some fictional women, or have the misfortune of competing for attention with Astartes and Primarchs, but... they are so goddamn important to the story structure, characterization and theming in “Horus Rising”. They are sheltered civilians and bohema-roleplayers fed mountains of propaganda before getting shipped off to create more propaganda about “our brave boys”... and they get reality-checked on multiple levels.

They expect glorious, refined, “peak of humanity” warriors - they get barracks filled with what’s at best scaled-up teenagers, and at worst actively hostile war machines. The Astartes typically dismiss them, avoid them, treat them as a nuisance - which is why someone like Mersadie or Ignace having direct access to Garviel Loken is such a big deal for both sides. They get to talk to a company Captain and Mournival member - and he doesn’t shun them. He’s actually a little sympathetic to them even if he doesn’t quite understand them. That sets him up to be a “good guy” type - an image that is then viciously (and forgive me for using a word so abused it’s lost all meaning) subverted, because...

Whisperheads. The Remembrancers perhaps expect the scattered strands of humanity to kneel before the majesty of the Great Crusade, then rise into a glorious new future - and then they see the reality of ruined cities filled with hostile locals and keeps lined up with mangled bodies. And remember - Luna Wolves don’t particularly revel in violence, they specialize in fast, precise assaults to decapitate the enemy. The action at Whisperheads isn’t a malicious slaughter. It’s an execution, a burst of gruesome yet detached violence, and its aftermath shocks the Remembrancers even before the supernatural gets involved. It has what may be one of my favourite moments in 40K novels - Loken calmly, yet callously dismissing a grievously injured soldier’s pleas for spiritual solace by calling them “superstition”, then mercy-killing him through a decapitation. This is our “hero”. This is a man we’ve seen cheering and fraternizing with his battle-brothers like a middle-school kid. This is a man considered to be a good leader, respected and liked by his men. This is one of the kinder, more mortal-friendly Astartes.

And then there are the others. Abaddon, who can be choleric and brash, but not a blood-addled fool or a sadist, whom we see frolicking with the rest of the Mournival and trying to ease Loken after the Whisperheads - who then gets into a vicious argument with his own Primarch, to the point of driving usually calm and fatherly Horus to throw his wine glass, command him out of the room, threaten demotion and only consider showing mercy if his First Captain comes back groveling and begging for it. All of it over Horus’ refusal to conduct a direct military action against the Interex clashing with Abaddon’s warmongering attitude and disdain for the “deviant” civilization. Torgaddon, the king of witty retorts and master of dad jokes, an “older friend” type to Loken - and yet you don’t see him fraternizing with the Remembrancers. Wish I could say something more about Aximand - but his silence and general withdrawal is also somewhat telling. You see their human side, yet they stay away from mortal humans and keep to their insular little coven of warrior-brothers instead.

“Horus Rising” succeeds at making its Astartes human-yet-dehumanized by having them interact with - or avoid - mortals, and all of it plays into the further themes - the intended nuance and tragedy across the loyalist-traitor divide. The doubt over the veracity of Imperium’s stated goal. The insidious nature of propaganda, the inherently repressive nature of this authoritarian state. The fallen idol of gold we see in 42nd millennium was standing on feet of clay from the very beginning, and the book isn’t subtle about it. Doesn’t have to be - nuance and subtlety aren’t inseparable - and shouldn’t be because the 40K fanbase is full of people like me, who need to be whacked over the head to understand something, and also people who wouldn’t get the memo even if it gave them a wedgie and stole their lunch money, like some of BL’s own writers.

I’ll spare you the extended screaming match over “False Gods” killing all nuance, assassinating half the cast (for now figuratively) and taking a massive step towards an oversimplified “good Imperium vs. evil Chaos” storyline that misses the entire goddamn point and actively makes the whole series less entertaining. I’ll also fast-forward over “Galaxy in Flames” struggling to pick up the pieces as it has to rush forward and cover a major event without having the same amount of time and word count to flesh out some of the key players in it, and deepening or firmly rooting in the problems of the previous two books as a result. We’re now at “Flight of the Eisenstein” scrambling to flesh out Death Guard the way “Horus Rising” fleshed out Luna Wolves.

And I’m just 4 chapters in, about 70 pages out of 280-ish (discounting all the superfluous marketing/publisher crap inflating the pagecount of BL novels). Things could change. I could be wrong and full of shit, and I’ll be the first to admit it if the novel somehow corrects itself on the problems I have with it right now: namely that everything is once again so goddamn flat and simplified.

Remember the nuance with which both halves of the Mournival were written? Fuck that. Grulgor is a brash dick with no redeeming qualities, Garro is a saint of a man and Typhon is Erebus Mini. Remember how the Remembrancers served to highlight that even the kindest Astartes is still a cold, uncaring war machine at the core? Fuck that, so far the only mortal character - Garro’s housecarl - is here to show you that Grulgor is a dick and Garro is a saint. The divide between diminishing ranks of “watered and fed” Terran-borns and Barbaros Legionaries whose ancestors struggled in extreme conditions - and how it feeds into some really toxic mindsets (I’m not apologising for this awful pun) across the Legion - may as well end up being another botched “good-evil” binary, and I saw enough derision towards the “lows” of society (working class deriding the margins, working-ascended-to-middle class looking down at both, big city middle class sneering at them all) to feel afraid.

I’ll give it benefit of a doubt in one area for now - remember how “Horus Rising” focused mostly on conflict against “normal” humans - not insane technobarbarians, not deranged Chaos worshipers, but conventionally acceptable “civilized” worlds, some of which proclaimed themselves to be the Sole Human Empire In The Galaxy (what could Dan Abnett mean by this, I wonder) - and only introduced a planet of “hostile xenos” as a (forgive me for using this cursed word again) subversion to once again remind you with the subtlety of a brick through the window that the Imperium’s policies are horseshit across the board? “Flight...” opens with an assault on the world-ship of distinctly inhuman xenos who go as far as to implant combat augments into their “children”, which has potential to be another stab against the Imperium and Astartes... but unless it gets elaborated upon later, it may as well end up being a footnote in the story, a cool little setpiece to introduce the characters and little more - or worse, be repurposed into yet another pro-Imperial argument without a hint of self-awareness. After all, we’re already setting up an abridged rehash of “Galaxy in Flames” so we’ll have the basis for Garro turning against his Primarch, siding with the Emperor and flying the titular ship to deliver the news of the Heresy.

A story that could easily have the same nuance and message as “Horus Rising”, but that will most likely end up being boring “good guys outsmart the bad guys” drivel.

Wake me up when Heresy remembers what does “no good guys” actually mean again.

#warhammer 40k #40k rambles #horus heresy was a mistake #100% only reading TSons/White Scars/Space Wolves novels and maybe a handful of guaranteed quality recommendations after I'm done with FotE #because I'm not wasting time on aborted plotlines and Imperial bootlicking #SWs are only there because I need context for how they are in Heresy vs. 40K's present times #so I'll probably drop off after the first few novels #Russ apologists rejoice #I'll be reading about your favourite war criminal because I care too much about my own Fenrisian baby boy #and his dynamics with the 10.000-year-old evil wizard thembo #I'm not a Magnus apologist BTW #I'm his judge-jury-executioner because I love him and TSons but boy do they also fucking suck #imagine being a pick-me girl for the Imperium of Man

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wheelercore · 2 years ago

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Jumping off of something @mike-wheeler-faggotry said about Terry and Ted

There definitely is an ongoing theme of a "clueless" aka uninvolved/not present parents that are preoccupied with something else, in particular I think, memories.

Terry being the most extreme case as she was forced into a state of catatonia. However, as we see, she's constantly repeating "Breathe. Sunflower. Rainbow. Three to the right, four to the left. 450". As we learn later are things that particularly traumatic memories for Terry. Her labor, her going to Hawkins lab, her seeing El, and finally her being forcefully shocked. She's perpetually stuck reliving those moments, unable to wake up. Not necessarily PTSD but a suitable comparison.

Victor is also another parental character who is similarly paralleled to both Terry and Ted I think. In fact, I feel like it's a bit overlooked but I definitely believe there was an element of PTSD induced paranoia in Victor's POV. While he ultimately wasn't wrong about there being something supernatural, his narration and description of his experiences and how he felt are a bit telling. Him calling his visions "living memories" which is a way to describe flashbacks. His reactions to said flashbacks being different from Virginia- whereas Virginia screams and runs as anyone would, Victor's reaction to the burning baby is to freeze and hyperventilate.

Similarly, before when hes sitting outside with the shotgun narrating about how he didn't believe the dead animals were a result of a wildcat like the police said, he's noticibly breathing hard, betraying a heightened emotional state. Again, while he wasn't necessarily wrong, the events definitely fed into his already existing predisposition to paranoia- triggering him. And as we see, while Victor was running around, he failed to see it was Henry (or maybe he did and refused to believe it), unlike Virginia who had a suspicion.

Victor is more clearly intentionally paralleled to s2 Ted which is a Choice. But why? Ted is framed on front of the mantleplace, the same place where Victor saw his "living memory":

I'll have to rewatch the wheeler scene eventually but it's 12:30 am and I'm snuggly in bed so correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I can remember Dustin rings the door multiple times in a very annoying fashion before Ted reacts. They make it a point to show us Karen and Ted side by side - Karen reacts quickly enough and gets increasingly annoyed and almost has to ask Ted to answer the door before he actually get up and does it. This scene is... strange because on the surface you would have to just assume that Ted expected Karen to get up and do it, although Dustin does say that the lines been busy for 2 two hours- so clearly Karen is obviously swamped with a matter.

But the fact that this scene exists in ST, where the showrunners are insistent in the fact that every scene has a purpose + was important enough to be paralleled back to later on in s4, particularly with Victor experiencing a vision, makes me think Ted's behavior isnt him being lazy but actually he was out of it mentally or dissociated.

But of course Ted isn't a POV character so we don't really know. They do the same with Mike imo in s4. Virginia also lacks a POV.

#analyzing the wheeler parents my beloved #not sure what the source of trauma would be #hes too young for korea and maybe just about too old to be drafted into vietnam. maybe.#it isnt necessarily required that a person have trauma related to loud noises for there to be a startled response to noise #in someone with ptsd. generally ppl woth ptsd regardless of source of trauma can just be very sensitive to sudden loud noises #i think. i did some research #regardless this is my tedpost for the day #victor creel #terry ives #ted wheeler

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miyos-multiverse-express · 1 year ago

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for the ask game- C is for care! What do you do to care for your pokemon, and how do they care for you?

Oh boy. This is gonna be a long one.

I have,,, so many mons now. It's a little insane. Actually, let's pack this under a cut.

Prima (Roserade, female, Shiny)

My beloved Starter. I met her when I was 16!

I pamper her relentlessly. She has a battery-charged daylight lamp back in my hut in Hisui and I have never forgotten to buy new batteries once. She gets pruned every month so she can move freely. Just. Ahhh,,, I love her very much. She protects me from so many wild Mons. She's the best 💜

Nino (Flygon, male)

The stealthiest Bug I've ever met. He is so very neat and the best ambusher I have. He gets to free-fly every evening. I hope Palina has been looking after him alright in my absence...

Linux (common Arcanine, male)

My trusty partner in ingredient searching! Seriously, Linux probably remembers more about cooking than I do. He gets along great with Palina's pack, too - I'm at least very sure he's doing just fine.

Passenger (Galvantula, female)

This not-so-little-anymore buddy evolved during our travels through Route 6 yesterday! (Amongst others - I'll get to that in a moment.)

I got her from Boss Emmet and she lived in my pockets for half a week before I noticed her. She's surprisingly good at snapping me out of moods - and my battery buying has doubled because of her. Right now, I have to keep her in her ball more often than not - Ren has arachnophobia, after all.

Thera (Sylveon, female)

THERA MY BELOVED. My therapy Mon - hence the, uh, rather uncreative nickname, heh. Arc, she's the best. I buy her... a lot of treats. Probably too many. She deserves all of them for dealing with my,,, immense amount of psychological issues. The anxiety is just the start, really.

Annie (Mismagius, female)

For lack of access to Thera at the time, Annie ate my anxiety for several weeks, which... probably contributed to why she's a lot more chill than others of her evolutionary line. I... really hope she's okay, wherever she ended up when I got to Galar...

Jet (Altaria, male)

My first real flyer! Saved my ass during the Michina Incident. I sing together with him a lot. Or, I did.

Cymbal (Togepi, male)

The other member of our impromptu musical troupe! Baby. Literal baby. I hatched him from an egg. Oh arc, I hope he's okay...

Isle (Gastrodon West Sea, male)

Probably my most adventurous Mon, I found him lost in the wrong half of Sinnoh during my... roughly two months with the Chosen Kiddo. Always keeps his cool - in that he's always very enthusiastic about whenever we ended up. A bit annoying when we got lost, but... he's a sweetheart, really. Likes mud baths a LOT, much to my clothes' misfortune.

Hanabi (Cinderace, female)

Her and Kuroko are probably the quickest growing Mons I have... probably because I fed them EXP candies as treats. (Seriously. I got her a week ago at Level 5. It's a little insane.)

Hanabi likes dragging me around a lot - at least she's learned pretty quickly that she doesn't fit on my shoulders anymore... Much like Isle's positive nature, her enthusiasm keeps me grounded in the present.

Kuroko (Corviknight, female)

My second Flyer! Though I haven't used her as one just yet - she only evolved yesterday, after all. Much like Hanabi, she gets EXP candies as treats for good behaviour.

We met by way of her literally smacking into my face. She's great! A bit of an attention hog. I think Hanabi and her have developed a bit of a rivalry, actually. Despite that, they work together really well. I should test them out in a Double Battle sometime.

Conductor (Litwick, male)

The newest member of my (increasingly big) Pokémon team! I caught him during the Fire Gym mission, and he immediately reminded me of home, so he stayed.

I know better than to feed it too much of myself this time, so. Uh. I did something else which might have been just as bad of an idea.

the little tyke feeds off of me!

... believe it or not, Fragment volunteered. I think he likes the little candle.

#rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #pokemon irl #giratina posts #miyo lore #ask game #//ooc: this took FOREVER.

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Enough

Pairings: Doyoung x Reader, ft. Johnny, Taeyong

Words: 2.6K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst to fluff

Synopsis:

Y/N and Doyoung have a fight over a misunderstanding and many things go awry. Will Doyoung and Y/N overcome this argument?

You always get the same rush as you step into the venue, no matter how many times you come; the busy bustle and organized chaos felt almost reassuring. The first fans had already been packed in tight, each one eager to catch a glimpse of their idols, the rest slowly pushing their way in. But you had the best view, you always got the best view, you thought as your eyes flitted around backstage searching for a specific pair of warm eyes.

When your own eyes locked with his, an unconscious smile broke out on your face. But before you could move towards him, he was swept away by his hairstylist, for yet another ‘final’ check up. Your shoulders dropped with a sigh and you turned around to look for a spot to wait, but were blindsided by a black haired man.

“Are you supposed to be back here?” He asked, eyeing you up and down. You could see where he would think that, you weren’t wearing a badge or anything and to be honest looked a bit sketchy wandering around aimlessly.

You smiled at him warmly, hoping to win him over, you didn’t want to go through the hassle of explaining and having to get Doyoung here to account for you. “Yeah, I’m… a friend of one of the members. Are you new here? I come all the time, I’m surprised we haven’t met yet. I’m Y/N.” You said as sweetly as possible, hoping to weasel your way out of the situation.

“No we haven’t met before. I think that you need to leave, before you cause a scene or put anyone in danger. We can’t have crazy people back here. �� He said, taking an aggressive step towards you in order to take you out of the vicinity.

“No, wait, I really am! I can explain. I’ll call him over now, just let me-”

“Hey, Y/N.” A voice interrupted you, making both you and the security guard freeze as an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You slowly looked up to see a familiar face as you sighed with relief, pulling your arm out of the guard’s grip.

“Johnny, I thought you were still getting changed. They said everyone was getting ready.” You said with a puzzled look on your face.

“I finished up early,” he said, shrugging and then turned back to the guard to flash him a smile.

“Oh, is this your friend? I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He said, biting back his words before bowing deeply to both you and Johnny. Soon after he ran out the door, back to his station.

“Thanks,” you said to Johnny, “Doyoung would have hated it if I had to call him out here to explain again. He lets me know every time it happens. You know, you’d think by how annoyed he gets he would have gotten me a pass or a badge by now.” You ranted a bit to Johnny, still frustrated that this is such a routine thing when you come to their shows.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have one made up for you. If you had let me know sooner I would’ve gotten you one earlier.” He said smiling down at you, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. “Hey, did you know there was food in the other waiting room? Are you hungry? We could grab some while you wait for Doyoung to finish.”

You nod back at him with a smile, you’re always up for food. The two of you headed to the back room chatting noisily.

Doyoung stood in the doorway, hidden out of view, watching the whole thing. Not only did he see his hyung’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you smiling at each other as if Doyoung wasn’t even in the picture, but he also heard the latter part of your conversation.

He felt thorns of jealousy build in his stomach and scratch at his throat before they made it to his head. He couldn’t think straight with the image of you two burned in the back of his mind, and it drove him crazy as he stomped towards the room the two of you had just entered.

He was furious and he had no idea what he was about to do, and what it would do to the two of you.

You jumped a little, startled by the sudden grip on your shoulder, but soon relaxed the moment you realized it was Doyoung.

“Oh, you’re done already? I thought it would be longer-” he interrupted you with a scowl.

“W-what’s going on? Is everything okay?” You were used to the cute and goofy Doyoung, not this guy who looks terrifying.

“What was that!?” He hissed at you under his breath.

“What are you talking about?” You nervously asked, Doyoung was acting so strange and you had never seen him like this.

“Oh so running your hands up and down Johnny is normal!?” He whisper-yelled starting to get increasingly louder.

“I was not! He helped me out of a situation, that’s it! You know I would never do that to you, especially with him.” You said defending yourself. What he had seen was just a misunderstanding, but by seeing the look on his face you didn’t think that he would just let it go.

“Oh really? Because by the looks of how much you two were flirting this obviously wasn’t the first time!” His voice reaching a pitch that started to draw attention.

“Stop it! People are starting to look, let’s just take this somewhere else.” You hissed at him, attempting to pull him out of the room.

“No! You’re not denying it! So it’s true, god you are unbelievable!” He said, shouting and running his hands through his hair.

You had given up at this point, patience running low you shouted right back at him, “What is me denying it going to do!? You won’t believe me any way! And now we’ve just made a huge scene.” You threw your hands up and started for the door.

“Yeah! Walk away! I never liked it when you come anyway! You’re just in the way and following me around like some lost puppy that always needs my attention. Just leave!” He screamed at your back making you pause in the doorway.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat and you could feel the familiar sting rise up, tears threatening to fall, but you refused to let them. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head, without looking back you walked out to the sitting room that you would normally watch from and sank into a seat.

As soon as you fell you could feel the walls and any strength you had break down, the tears ran down your face and had no intention of stopping them. Is that what he really thought? About everything? That you were cheating on him, that he never even wanted you here, that you were attention-seeking? You covered your face with your hands, bawling your eyes out, a little too preoccupied to notice Doyoung watching as he made his way to the stage. The moment he saw you his face fell and contorted into a wince, immediately wanting to comfort you. But the moment was gone and he was rushed on to stage.

For the entirety of the song his mind was not on the performance. While he didn’t mess up, he wasn’t his best. He worried constantly about you and the minute he was let off stage for a wardrobe change he rushed to find you, only to be welcomed with an empty seat.

He was frantic, fearful that you had taken his words to heart and really left. He asked around and found an answer that he didn’t want. Exhausted and defeated he sank into a chair and buried is head in his hands. A hand came down on his back and rubbed it in a comforting manner. Doyoung’s eyes opened and he recognized the shoes before lifting his head to confront the member.

“Look, I don’t know what the misunderstanding was with Y/N, but you two will get through it.” Johnny said cautiously, having an inkling that it was partially about him. “I can try to clear anything up if it will help.”

Doyoung’s face was halfway between a glare and heartbroken expression. “Yeah, why were you two all over each other earlier?”

“When?” Johnny thought back trying to remember a moment that might have been misconstrued.

“You had your arm wrapped around her and were talking about how annoyed and fed up she was with me. Is that what you two do? Just talk shit about me?” He said, starting to get worked up again.

“Doyoung, calm down. That is not at all what happened. The security guard was trying to kick her out because she didn’t have a badge and I just came in to help. I didn’t realise that you don’t like it when I put my arm on her shoulder. I guess I’m just used to doing that with her, she’s like a little sister to me, you know? I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” Johnny calmly explained.

“So you two aren’t seeing each other behind my back?” Doyoung faltered.

“No, not romantically at least. Our relationship is strictly platonic Doyoung, I swear.” He assured with a smile.

Doyoung cocked his head, not liking the thought of them seeing each other without him, even if it was just platonic.

“So-”

“No, we don’t talk shit about you when we hang out. We have more interesting things to talk about.” Johnny interrupted with a small grin.

In return Doyoung gave a teasing glare before breaking out a small smile. “Okay, good. I’m sorry for making a scene earlier, I just lost my head when I saw you guys together.”

“That’s okay. But I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Johnny gave him a sad smile before leaving to go get his hair and make up retouched.

Almost instantly Doyoung’s face fell.

“On in five! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

He was rushed on stage for the next song, his mind not quite there.

On stage he looked over the crowd, a tight smile pulled on his face. He wanted to be happy for his fans, he wanted to show them everything he could, but it was getting hard to focus again.

An arm was thrown over his shoulders, swaying him back and forth forcing his movement to follow.

“Don’t worry about it too much. You guys will be fine.” Johnny yelled into his ear, far from his mic. He pulled back and gave a nod before running off to chase Haechan.

“Right. It’ll be fine.” But he faltered as he recognized a blue shirt in the crowd.

“Y/N?”

He was already too out of it and searching for a clearer view in the crowd didn’t help his concentration.

He missed his cue.

While Taeil picked up the slack, Doyoung was overwhelmed with embarrassment as his face morphed into a bright red.

He was frustrated beyond belief and he could feel the burn in his throat choke him. The performance quickly ended and he was rushed into the black SUV that would bring him home. He hadn’t bothered to shower or wipe off the stage makeup, only tearing off the outfit for the sake of the stylists, he couldn’t disappoint them too.

He was a disappointment, to his fans, to you, to himself. He couldn’t even hold a performance without screwing up and looking like a fool in front of his fans. They came all this way for a show that they could remember and what did they get? A rookie that forgot he was on stage. He groaned banging his head against the back of the headrest.

He was a disappointment to you. He attacked you and let you down when he should’ve been there for you. He groaned again.

What a disappointment.

“Doyoung? Can you stop that?” Taeyong asked from the seat next to him.

“No.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself. What would the fans do if they found out you got hurt? What would Y/N do? She’d be worried sick, don’t do that to her.” Taeyong said softly, staring straight ahead.

Johnny had confided in Taeyong about the situation between himself and you. Taeyong wasn’t proud of the way that Doyoung acted, in fact he wanted to scold him, but how could he when he could see how much Doyoung was beating himself up over it.

He leaned against the window, staring at the streaks of lights that they passed.

“Just go home, shower and rest up, okay? Things will be fine. I promise.” Taeyong assured him.

Doyoung just let out a sigh.

The door closed shut softly, Doyoung was hoping that you were here. And in the chance that you were, he was not going to wake you.

After setting his bag down and taking off his shoes he turned towards the kitchen but froze instead. He took in a sharp breath.

You were sleeping on the couch, curled up in a ball, used tissues scattered below you. His heart dropped and he felt guilt take over him.

He made his way into the seat next to you and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you into his embrace. He smiled sadly when you snuggled yourself deeper into his chest.

“How did it go?” You mumbled, startling him.

“You’re up?”

He felt you nod against his body.

“Terribly.”

“Why?” You frowned, sure you were mad at him, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to feel bad about his performance.

“Cause you weren’t there.” He gripped you tighter, resting his face on top of your head. “And I messed up. I forgot my lines.”

You heard the waver in his voice and knew that he was taking it rough.

“I’m sure they loved it anyways baby. You don’t have to be perfect all the time you know. Your fans love you for you and that’s why they go, the perfect performance is just a bonus.”

You moved your head to make eye contact with him. “You’re more than good enough. Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not. Okay?”

He smiled, “How did I get so lucky?”

You gave him a peck on the lips, “I’m the lucky one.”

“No really, I totally made a scene and said some really horrible things and here you are comforting me. I should be on my knees begging for your forgiveness.”

“I’d like to see that.” You hummed re-situating yourself in his arms so that you could give him a good look.

“I’m sorry. Johnny and I talked about everything. I feel horrible the way that I reacted, I should’ve never accused you and talked to you that way. I didn’t mean a single word of it. I just got jealous and exploded.”

“So you don’t hate it when I go to your shows?”

“No! I would die if you stopped showing up. I was a total wreck today knowing that you left. And I shouldn’t neglect you like that. I promise I’ll get a special badge for you and I’ll show every guard your picture and say that they’ll get fired if they ever try to make you leave. You know what I’ll fire them if they ever let you leave. You’re not allowed to leave without me. Okay?”

You laughed at his apology. “Okay.”

He smiled, closing his eyes feeling peaceful once again.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

He flashed you a gummy smile before bringing your head into his chest again.

“You stink.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“How does a bath sound?”

“Wonderful.”

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scoutdoesstuff · 2 years ago

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time for more catch up posts! from my queue, which i've hopefully set up correctly.

this is day eighteen of my tea prompts challenge! i decided to do another sam POV deal and this one got ... introspective. which i guess is my default value for sam-centric stuff. today's flavor is arabica chai.

“The fuck — this isn’t coffee!” Dean leaned away from the Impala to spit out the tea.

“You said you’d take anything as long as it came from the coffee plant,” Sam said, actual cup of coffee cradled in his hands and a safe six feet away from his brother.

“Sammy!”

Sam giggled and got in the Impala. Dean wrenched the driver’s side door open and stuck his head in the car. “From the coffee plant implies coffee! This is tea!”

“It’s arabica tea, from the arabica plant which makes coffee beans. Sometimes it’s called arabica chai, if you’re a snooty barista,” Sam said, the last part mostly to himself. She’d been really pretty, with gorgeous looping tattoos around her arms and a septum ring. She’d laughed at Sam’s joke, egged him on to buy something goofy for his brother. A few years ago, he would’ve stayed for an hour longer, chatted with her, maybe even planned to keep the number he knows is written on the inside of his coffee cup sleeve.

Things were different, after Ruby. Trust was hard, in himself and in others.

Dean poked his arm and Sam flinched back into the present. Dean didn’t pull his hand away and Sam used the stability of his brother to ground himself.

“Doubloon for your thoughts?” Dean asked, eyebrows waggling, hamming it up as much as possible.

They were on Ocracoke Island, just off the shore of North Carolina, trying to track down what appears to be an actual haunting by Edward Teach. Dean was beside himself with pirate puns. They were doing a tour of the island’s tourist traps while they looked for evidence that there was an actual haunting. Right now, it felt like this could be a bust, like someone was trying to drum up the tourist trade after a particularly hard hurricane season, but they were also having fun so Sam wasn’t sure if he cares either way.

He couldn’t remember the last time he and Dean just fucked around for a few days, played pranks on each other, and saw weird tourist shit that you can only find if your whole life was a road trip. It’d been nice, so nice that it hurt sometimes. Sam doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that he’d became someone who flinched when he felt good. It’s not a masochist thing, he knew that much. It was like he’d forgotten how to feel happy sometimes.

Hell has an incredible way of rewiring your head.

Sam had been quiet long enough that Dean’s face tipped into worried, or more worried than he usually was about Sam these days.

“The barista was pretty,” Sam blurted out, desperate to make the divot between Dean’s eyebrows go away.

“You get her number, Casanova?” Dean said, titling his head just slightly to the left and fluttering his eyelashes.

Sam worked the sleeve off of his coffee cup and showed Dean the inside of it, trying not to smile. He wasn’t gonna call her. Dean hooted and fired up the Impala’s engine anyway.

They drove for a while. The island was only so big, so they circled it twice, trying to pick up some sign of a haunting. The locals were either annoyed at talking to what were clearly tourists or were way too excited to them about the the spoooooky haunting that’s terrified their neighbors.

They stopped around four, fed up with shitty leads and increasingly frustrating conversations. Dean idled the Impala by a stop sign, eyes sightless through the windshield. Sam waited, let his brother sort out whatever was going through his head.

Dean eventually swallowed hard, looked slightly to his right to address the window behind Sam’s head. “Do you wanna go to the beach?”

Dean was in his thirties, Sam his late twenties. Neither of them had ever been. John had called it a waste of time when they were growing up and there hadn’t been time in the last few years.

“One of the guy’s I talked to said there was a sort of private place off Highway 12 we could go to. Might requires some hiking so I don’t know if you want to — I mean it’s fine —“ Dean kept rambling.

“Yeah,” Sam said, suddenly weirdly emotional. “Yeah, I wanna go to the beach.”

They picked up sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a six pack on their way out of town. The drive wasn’t long, just a few minutes, and then Dean pulled off the highway.

“Can’t get over how fucking tiny this place is,” Dean said, grunting as they wrestled a cheap blanket and their food out of the Impala. “Used to having the whole forty eight at my disposal. I have no idea what to do with some place that I get from one end to the other in less than thirty minutes.”

“You’re pissed about the bike traffic,” Sam said, only slightly teasing.

“It’s weird to live someplace where you can get everywhere by bike!” Dean shouted over his shoulder as he hustled across the highway towards a poorly marked trail.

It took them a minute to hike towards the beach through surprisingly dense bushes. They’d both ditched their outer layers by the time they reached the dune. Sam almost lost the sandwiches in their scramble up and over the loose hill of sand.

It was worth it when they got to the top, though. The ocean spread out as far as they could see, a dark, deep blue dotted with fluffy, white wave caps close to the shore. The beach was a warm, light brown that turned to an deeper, earthy brown the closer it go to the waves. Birds scuttled to and fro around the waves, trying to catch shellfish left exposed by the retreating water before they could bury themselves under the sand.

Sam and Dean stared out at the expanse. It wasn’t a white beach with perfect blue water, but it was real and it was theirs and there was no else on the beach to watch two grown ass men get maybe a little too emotional at seeing a beach.

They raced each other down the beach, shoving at each other hard enough that they both almost went ass over teakettle a couple of times. They left their food hidden in the Impala’s old cooler on top of their towel, tore their socks and shoes off, and sprinted into the waves, wading in up to their knees.

Dean kicked water at Sam, spraying him with surf and then it was on. They both wound up completely drenched, chucking handfuls of sand at each other and laughing like children. It was the best day Sam had had topside since he went to hell. It honestly might’ve been the best day he’d had since he left Stanford, if he was honest. It felt like healing was supposed to feel, especially when he and Dean got tired of throwing water and sand at each other and settled on their towel to eat.

They ate like men starved and finished off a beer a piece within a few minutes.

Then Sam squinted and stared off in the distance.

There was a man walking out of the waves, towards them. Sam put down his beer and poked Dean, who was rummaging around their blanket for the bag of chips.

Dean grunted, annoyed at being pulled away from scavenging for food, and followed Sam’s finger.

The man, and it did appear to be a man, walked out of the waves. He was dressed in clothes from the wrong century that were dirty and waterlogged. That wasn’t really the concerning part, though. The real issue was that he was holding his own head by its hair in his left hand.

Dean squealed, startling Sam out of his horror filled staring.

“Sammy, it’s Blackbeard!”

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

It was a long run back to the Impala to get their guns.

#the beach sam and dean go to is real #well real provided it hasn't been shreded by a hurricane in the past decade or so #i used to go all the time with parents in the summer #it is ludicrously remote but the sea shells you can find out there are amazing #spn #my fic #tea prompts

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

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the wheeling stars, amidst the dark (The Mandalorian)

(Peli Motto’s glad to see one of her favorite customers, until she realizes he’s come alone. Peli + Din friendship, set after The Rescue. A study on grief, friendship, sorrow and hope. 5368 words.)

***

Winter on Tatooine was Peli’s favorite season, a time when the fierce desert heat gave up a little of its cruelty. There was less sweating through her jumpsuit; not no sweating, of course, just less. Water prices were better, and smugglers preferred to visit more often when the suns weren’t baking the sands below. More people, more ships in need of repair, more work. It was a good time of year.

She was at a lull today, though. Nothing to worry about. Happened now and then. She passed the time setting the droids on maintenance duties in between games of sabacc, checking up on inventory, and drinking through a pot of caf. It was actually cool enough this afternoon she could take her caf hot instead of chilled, and not feel like she was boiling alive. She took a sip. If nothing else, she was damn good at enjoying the little things.

She heard engines overhead and glanced up to see what was heading her way. An Intel X4 gunship, by the sound of it. It soared into view, and she narrowed her eyes in curiosity. Didn’t see those around often, but she could fix it. As long as the pilot was good for it, of course.

Her droids rolled up, ready to help, and she strolled out of her office with her cup of hot caf in hand. She blew on it idly as the ship set down on its landing gear, which had seen better days. She could already spot six areas that needed repair, always a bad sign.

The more she looked, the more she saw. The ship itself bore marked signs of carbon scoring and was missing several panels and outer arrays. One of the gun turrets had been taken out entirely. Poor flying, it looked like, but it made for good credits. She could get a solid day or two of work out of it, easy.

She waited, growing increasingly annoyed at the amount of time it was taking for the pilot to hurry up and step outside. Her caf was growing cold in her hands in the chilly winter breeze, and she frowned. “Coming out or what?” she hollered, perfectly aware that the pilot wouldn’t be able to hear her unless they opened the ship up. Still, though, it made her feel like she was doing something. One of her droids burbled to her curiously, and she shrugged.

After what seemed an eternity, the ramp dropped to the sand. She watched the darkness within the ship curiously, peering up into its belly as the pilot descended the ramp. Those boots -- it couldn’t be -- A grin stretched across her face.

“Mando!” she crowed. “Moving up in the world! Finally put that hunk of junk of yours to rest, did you?”

The Mandalorian stepped out of the cargo bay, each footstep on the ramp measured and slow. He walked down to her level. “The Crest had a good run,” he said, as humorless as ever.

“Well, what happened to her? You didn’t blow up running sublight, anyway, or you’d be space dust,” Peli laughed, taking a sip of her caf. Ah, hell. She’d forgotten it had gone cold. She slugged down the rest, her mouth twitching at the bitterness. She leaned sideways, looking around the back of him for the strap of the bag he wore to carry the kid. But he wasn’t wearing it.

“An Imperial light cruiser happened,” he said. “The X4’s serviceable enough. But it’s going to need some work.”

“A light cruiser?” Peli asked in disbelief. “That would have blown your rusty tin can to bits.”

He shifted slightly, rested his hands on his hips. “It did.”

“Hang on, hang on.” She handed her cup to one of the droids, who trotted off with it for cleaning. She stared at the Mandalorian, spreading her hands out wide. “Let’s get one thing straight. Where’s my little guy?”

Mando stared at her, or maybe he didn’t. The helmet was impossible to read. But his shoulders rose and fell. Rose, and fell.

She knew what an Imperial light cruiser could do. Knew it could take down a whole town from above, let alone a little ship. Let alone a little ship holding a defenseless child --

“Mando, come on,” she wheedled, trying to keep her tone light despite a growing sense of dread. “You’re scaring me here. Where is he?”

“He’s safe now,” said Mando at last, and even through the helmet his voice sounded wrong. Peli felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool winter breeze.

“What do you mean?” she said sharply. “I don’t like how that sounds, I don’t like it at all. Sounds kinda final to me.”

“He’s with his own kind now,” said Mando, and his shoulders sank. He looked at his hands, flexed them as if he didn’t recognize them. “I found him a --” His voice hitched. He tried again. “I found him a -- a Jedi --”

She heard it, then, the strain. That rough wetness to the voice. The Mandalorian was crying.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Ohhhh, shit shit shit, Mando.” She hurried over to him, grabbed the great silver lump by his shoulders, and steered him into her office. He went without protest, his vocoder still relaying breathing that was too ragged and irregular to be normal. Well, if this wasn’t a womp rat in the water tank.

She fought back her own disappointment, her face twisting as she shoved him into one of the chairs. She took the other, resting her face in her hand, and gaped at him.

“When did this happen?”

His helmet stared past her at the wall. He took a deep breath, and the weepy sounds were gone. “A few weeks ago,” he said, and his voice was all flatness, all emptiness.

She shook her head. “I mean, I know you said you were gonna -- but I thought that was just talk.”

“Why would it just be talk?” he asked, straightening up in his chair, stiff as anything. “I was quested --”

“For suns’ sake, I thought you were just being religious or something! A figure of speech!” said Peli. “I never thought you’d really send him away. You were crazy about him!”

The helmet tilted toward her in a faint nod. “Yeah.”

Peli rubbed her face, trying to square what he was telling her now with the way he carried that little kid halfway across the Dune Sea, strapped to his hip, precious as anything. She let out a long breath through her nose, thinking.

“So wait. The kid was a Jedi?”

“He had… powers. He needed training I couldn’t give him.” This part came out all rote, like he’d said it a hundred times.

“But he had to leave you for that? Like, you still get to see him now and then, right? He’s not gone forever -- oh no, I’m sorry, oh, hell.” He wasn’t crying this time, or if he was, it was harder to tell -- but he’d twisted his helmet hard to the side as if she’d punched him straight through his fancy armor, and he’d tensed in a way that had nothing to do with being battle-ready. She froze, waiting for him to respond.

“I don’t think I’ll ever see him again,” he mumbled, bowing his head over his chest. His hands unfurled in his lap, palms facing upward like they’d never hold a weapon again.

Damn it. Peli scrubbed her burning eyes, hard, with the sleeve of her jacket. They sat in silence for several minutes, Peli for once at a loss for words.

There was a small noise by the door. She glanced at it out of habit, startling when she realized it was one of the boys with her evening meal. She’d forgotten she’d set the droids on dinner duty tonight, not wanting to bother with it herself. She blinked away the stinging in her eyes and turned to the Mandalorian, slumped in the chair.

“Hey. You.”

He lifted the helmet slightly, enough so she could tell he heard her.

“When’s the last time you ate anything?”

He tilted his head upward to look at her, pausing as if in thought. “Yesterday? …day before yesterday.”

“Well, damn it, here you go.” She grabbed the tray from her droid and shoved the platter of food into the Mandalorian’s lap. He looked down at bantha cheese, sorghum bread and dewback jerky with apparent bemusement.

“I — shouldn’t—“

Oh, right. He was one of those that never showed his face, she remembered. She firmly turned her chair around and closed her eyes, shooing her droid away with one hand. She heard the droid go and reached, eyes still closed, to shut her office door.

“I ain’t looking,” she declared. “But you need to eat, and if you wanna talk while doing it, that’s fine too. I got more things to worry about than what one Mandalorian looks like under his helmet, you know.”

A few beats passed. She wasn’t sure what he would say, but the fact he hadn’t outright insisted she take her dewback jerky and screw off was probably a good sign.

“You swear it?” he asked cautiously.

“I do. Cross my heart and hope to fall in a sarlacc pit. But honest, if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll go out to the yard, or you can get back on your ship —“

There was a hissing sound and a faint snick. “No. It’s all right.” The words were followed by the sounds of eating and swallowing. Something in her relaxed slightly, hearing it.

Peli leaned back in her chair, resolutely keeping her eyes closed. Customers had a million weird requests and this was an easy one, especially since a well-fed customer always paid better.

Besides, Mando wasn’t just a typical customer anymore. Somewhere in there between repeat business and the shared affection they had for the child, he’d become a… a friend. And Peli knew how to deal with those.

She settled her head in against the chair’s back and crossed her arms. “So,” she said baldly, “I take it you’re not exactly doing great.”

He snorted. Huh, he could laugh. “That’s presumptuous,” he said, and without the ominous filter of the helmet, his voice was just a man’s voice, a little low, a little rough. There was a pause. “No. I guess not.”

“It’s not something people just get over, losing a kid.” She waved a hand up over the back of her chair in what she assumed was still his general direction. “And I know, maybe you’ll say he wasn’t really your kid —“

“No,” he said suddenly, the word fierce. “He was.” He sounded raw, vulnerable. Human.

Peli nodded, her heart aching. She liked that he was admitting it. He’d always been cagey about that before, when Peli would tease him about his strange-looking kid and he’d mulishly push back, spouting off crap about the kid being a foundling, yadda yadda. But it had been obvious to her on their visits it was more than that. The kid wasn’t a foundling, he was his foundling.

“So then, he’s your kid,” she continued. She waved one hand where he could see it, underscoring her words. “And losing him… it hurts, right? Some horrible dark hole you can’t climb out of. Can’t see the suns from. It sticks with you, through everything you do.” She sighed. “It does get… softer, eventually. The dark sticks to the corners again. But it’s still awful. If you weren’t a mess about it I wouldn’t like you so much.”

She could hear him breathing hard behind her. She waited. “You’ve been through it yourself,” he said, realizing.

“Something like that. Not exactly the same.” She shrugged, broadly enough that she thought he could probably see it even with the chair back in the way. With her eyes closed it was easy to see their faces as they had been. Her younger sister Prida, gleefully loudmouthed and brassy; her beautiful nephew Nedhi with his chubby cheeks and bright eyes. “But let’s just say you don’t get to be my age on a world like this without losing people.”

“No. I guess not. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Peli, though it never would be, not really. But she’d done her work on the dark, hard kriffing work, and she didn’t want him feeling like he had to suddenly stop being a mess and focus on helping her. This wasn’t about that. “It was a long time ago. You don’t move on, really, but you move forward.”

She heard a faint click. “You can turn around now,” he said. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“That’s me, Peli Motto, kindness expert,” she said loftily.

A faint sound that might have been something like a laugh shifted into a serious tone. “I haven’t shared a meal with anyone in -- not since Grogu.” The last word came out nearly as quiet as a whisper, but she caught it anyway. It sounded like a name.

She turned back around, opening her eyes and squinting at the sudden brightness. Mando’s helmet, back in place, gleamed in the fading sunlight streaming through the window. “What’s a Grogu?” she asked curiously.

“It’s the kid’s real name. I only found out recently.” He rested a hand on his belt, fingers tightening over one of the pouches. “You should have seen the way he smiled, hearing it again --” His voice had gone warm again, taking that tone he always used when talking to the kid.

Peli grinned at him, picturing the kid’s strange face all sunny, his long ears tipping upward. Grogu. It fit him in a strange way, a weird homely name for a weird homely baby: just like how the bright little baby seemed to fit so well with the grim Mandalorian. This was good. This was progress.

But Mando caught himself, the warmth shutting off abruptly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about this. You have other things to do, and you’ve already done more than you needed. And I should —“

“You should what?” Peli asked. “Go back and mope alone on your new ship? Something tells me you’ve already done more than enough of that, Mr. I Haven’t Eaten in Two Days.”

“You have no right --” he began, half-rising out of his chair as if to leave.

“No right to what?” she snapped, annoyed now. “Point out when you’re gonna get yourself killed? Don’t think I haven’t seen the state of that ship. I know you’re a better pilot than that, you had to be to survive in the junk you were flying before. If you’d taken any halfway decent evasive maneuvers it’d be in much better shape. You’re flying sloppy,” she accused, and he sank back into the chair.

“And if I am?” he said, and the hollowness rolled off of him in waves.

Peli got to her feet, pacing around with one hand anchored to her hip, the other flying around to make her point. Tough guys! There was no end to their obnoxiousness. “Look. This is grief, Mando, and that’s the kind of shit that hunts you down and takes you out if you don’t face it. You’re not special. It’ll get you. But I think you’re good people, and I like having you as a customer, and I’m selfish. I’d like to keep you around instead of hearing you got yourself blown up.”

He lowered his head, listening.

“So here’s Peli’s take on the situation. I think you wanna talk about him, and about what you’re going through.” She raised her brows. “And I think you should. I really think you should.”

He was silent for a few moments. She paced.

“And you’re the one to talk to, huh?” he asked.

“Unless you’re hiding somebody else on that ship.”

He chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. “Only in carbonite. But they’re not very good listeners.”

“Well, look who’s a funny guy!” Peli cackled. “Come on. I’ll get the droids started on repairing your ship. Let’s go up to the roof and take some time. Night’s nice, this time of year.”

“Fine,” he said, in utter resignation.

***

They sat on empty shipping containers on the rooftop where the breeze was best, watching the moons rise as the last flare of the setting suns washed across the horizon. The first star of the evening shone silvery white against the dusk.

Mando sat, shoulders straight and head high, on his crate; Peli slouched comfortably on hers. A thermos of hot chocolate sat beside her, a treat she liked to save for particularly profitable days. And for rough ones, too. It was still a little too hot to drink, and she waited, trying to be patient despite it not being one of her strong suits.

“Well, Mando?” she asked.

“What do you want me to say?” he replied.

“I dunno. Tell me something about the kid. Something that made you happy about him. Or sad. Come on, they’re your emotions,” said Peli. “Ahh, I suppose I should go easy on you. You don’t strike me as the conversational type.”

Another one of those dry chuckles. “I’m not. But I talked to him a lot.”

“Sure. It’s good for kids. Gotta mold those growing brains and all. What’d you talk to him about? Bounty hunting?”

“Not exactly,” said the Mandalorian. He angled his head to one side, considering. “I would always give him some idea of what we were doing, where we were going, who we were going to see. He seemed to like hearing about it, like it was a story.”

“Did you ever tell him any bedtime stories?” asked Peli. “He liked those, you know.”

He turned to her, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you mean?”

“How d’you think I got him to sleep, that first time you two showed up? You were off in the Dune Sea with that idiot hunter kid, and I had to figure out how to get the little guy to get some sleep, otherwise he would have eaten me out of house and home,” laughed Peli. “So I told him all the stories I used to tell my nephew Nedhi. The lost little bantha, the happy Jawa, the baby krayt dragon all alone in the desert. You know. The classics.”

“I’m sure he enjoyed them,” said Mando. “I didn’t really know any stories.” He shifted awkwardly on his crate. “I tried to make up a few, but it’s not exactly my forte.”

“Well, he did like the stories, but I think he liked them too well. Kept trying to act out the dance of the happy Jawa instead of going to sleep. Nah, he didn’t get tired until I tried singing a lullaby to him. You do not want to hear me sing, but I guess it worked. Kids have weird taste,” said Peli, shaking her head. She checked the display on her thermos and saw the temperature had settled at the perfect warmth for drinking. “Hey, you want some hot chocolate? Mixed it special. I might have added a few nips of Rylothian firewhiskey; really gives it a kick.”

“Maybe later,” said Mando gruffly.

“Your loss,” said Peli, pouring out a little cup for herself. She blew on the surface, then took a sip, feeling warmth suffuse her from the top of her head to her toes. She whistled. “It’s a good batch. Lemme know if you change your mind.”

The last daylight vanished, leaving a sky painted in inky blues and purples. The nascent moons crept shyly above the horizon as the starfield began to populate in earnest, points of flickering gold and white amid the darkness.

“What was his favorite food?” Peli asked.

The Mandalorian guffawed, throwing his head back. “He ate everything. You know he almost got us all killed on that transport trip with your Frog friend?”

“What?” Peli squawked. “I heard back from her later. Sent me a holo of her cute little tadpoles and told me you’d kept your word like a true Mandalorian. She didn’t mention a word about death-defying experiences.”

“We crashed on a glacial world trying to shake a New Republic patrol,” said Mando. “I was busy repairing the ship when she wandered off and found a hot spring. She was trying to keep her eggs warm and I was trying to keep them safe from -- well, Grogu found these spider eggs and started eating them. Turns out ice spiders come in a lot of different sizes.” He groaned. “The biggest one was the size of the Crest. If I never see another ice spider, it’ll be too soon.”

“Oh, no,” Peli lamented. “Well, tell me you weren’t too hard on him. He couldn’t have known what he was doing. He was just hungry!”

“Don’t worry. He didn’t get in trouble. It wasn’t his fault,” said Mando. He lay back on the crate, lacing his fingers together over his waist and letting his legs hang free. “I should have kept a better watch on him.” He turned his helmet to look at her. “You were right.”

“About what?” asked Peli, taking another sip of chocolate. It burned sweetly on the way down, and she closed her eyes, savoring it. The warmth was a delicious contrast to the cool night wind. “Besides everything.”

“The first time we met. You told me I had a lot to learn about caring for a young one.”

She cast her mind back to her first meeting, remembering how Grogu had sleepily walked out of the ship, looking around in disappointed confusion for his beskar-clad caretaker. She’d seen a lot of shoddy childcare in Mos Eisley, but leaving a toddler alone on a gunship definitely ranked up there with questionable parenting practices. It was a move made either by someone foolish or desperate, and she knew which one Mando wasn’t.

“Yeah, well, you probably didn’t have a lot of options,” said Peli gently. “Raising a kid, it’s hard work. I tried to help my sister Prida as much as I could. My nephew was always getting into things and making a nuisance of himself, so I watched him a lot when she had to work. He was always messing around with my tools and getting underfoot; used to tell my sister I’d rather adopt a Kowakian monkey-lizard than have to deal with his shenanigans.” She smiled fondly.

“Did your nephew grow out of it?” asked Mando. “I kept hoping Grogu would start listening to me for once, but he was stubborn.”

Peli shook her head, swallowing. She looked away from him, staring off into the darkened desert, shivering slightly in the wind. “Never got to find out. The Hutts charged a lot for protection. I didn’t even know Prida was in debt until…” She sighed. “I came home with dinner and found them both. There had been a struggle, but not a very long one.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mando, sitting back up. His shoulders shifted, the angle between them softening.

“It’s never the same for anybody,” said Peli. “Grief, I mean. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But I think the shape of it’s kind of the same, even if the name is different. Son. Nephew. Sister. It’s all hard.” She finished her chocolate and reached for the thermos. More firewhiskey sounded good, right about now. “Sure you don’t want some, Mando?”

He hesitated, then reached out an orange-gloved hand.

“That’s the spirit,” said Peli. She filled her own cup, then filled the second one for him and passed it over. She held hers up and clinked it against his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he said cautiously. She turned away, keeping her gaze on the distant mountains, just the merest black line on the darkened horizon. The stars spangled the heavens, little jewels in gold and white. Behind her, the Mandalorian was apparently investigating his drink. She heard the click and hiss of his helmet raising and lowering as he drank, then a hacking sputter.

“You all right there?” she asked, resisting the urge to look at him in case she saw under the helmet.

He gulped audibly. “It’s been a while since I had firewhiskey,” he said, his voice unmechanized. She heard him swallow again, this time without the sputter. “This is good, though. I haven’t had hot chocolate in years.”

“Even the packaged stuff?” Peli asked. “Aw, come on. You gotta treat yourself sometimes, Mando.”

“Treating myself usually means picking up a new weapon,” he said drily. “Grogu would have liked this, though. Without the firewhiskey.”

“Of course, of course.”

She sipped her chocolate. In the distance, a lonely krayt dragon howled, just like in the stories. It was a faint, pithy sound, but the empty sands carried the cry clearly, and it washed over them like the breeze. She and Prida used to cower at the sound when they were children. Now, it simply sounded like home.

“So how are you really?” asked Peli. She’d never seen much point in subtlety.

“I don’t sleep well,” he said reluctantly.

“Sounds about right. It takes a toll,” said Peli. “Hurt like this messes with you. I remember I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything. It took weeks, maybe months, before I could sleep again.”

“Grogu used to wake me up most nights, talking to himself or crying or getting into things. I… didn’t mind that,” he mused. “But now he’s gone. And I still can’t sleep.”

“Dreams?”

She heard the click of his helmet settling back into place. “Yes.”

“Bad ones?”

A long, tense pause. When he spoke again, his voice shook. “Yes.”

She turned back to face him, taking another drink, letting the warmth of the chocolate fill her mouth and chest. She remembered that time in a blurry, confused way, broken nights marked by imagining how that fight must have gone. Dreams where she thought they’d died quickly, or dreams where they lasted for a while, suffering, on the floor of their cramped grimy kitchen. She didn’t know which she hated more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She looked down at her hands, calloused and wrinkled, a lifetime of hard work etched into them. But they hadn’t been enough to undo what had been done.

“He almost died,” said Mando roughly, glancing away from her. Moonlight and starlight pooled and rippled over his armor. “The Imps took him. They were taking his blood, doing tests on him. Experiments. If I hadn’t come for him -- if that Jedi hadn’t been so powerful...” He sighed.

“Shit,” whispered Peli.

HIs hands curled into fists. “He was so pale when I found him. They’d hurt him. Badly.” His legs, dangling over the edge of the crate, were trembling. All of him was trembling.

A white-hot rage burned within her, a fury that made her slug back the rest of her chocolate and scowl. “Are they still alive? You need me to kill them for you?”

He laughed a little, the sound cracking partway through. The trembling faded. “They’re all either dead or the New Republic’s problem now. But… thank you.”

“How could anyone hurt a hair on his head?” growled Peli. “You’re sure he’ll be safe with this Jedi?”

“The Jedi fought like nothing I’ve ever seen,” said Mando. “And he promised he would lay down his life for the kid. I have to believe it’s enough. I did what I set out to do. It just….” He rolled the little cup of hot chocolate around in his hand, then raised his other hand to lift the helmet. Peli closed her eyes until she could hear the helmet drop back down.

“It must have been so hard,” said Peli. “Letting him go like that.”

Mando set the cup down beside him and rested his hands on his thighs, the fingers flexing and uncurling. “I let him see me.”

“Huh? You’re hard to miss, you know --” Peli began, then realized. “You mean your face?”

A slight nod, the helmet dipping towards her and lifting back up. “I… broke the Creed.” The words hung heavy in the air between them. “I don’t regret it. He wanted to see me. And… I wanted to be seen.” His voice dropped, low and hoarse. “I promised him I would see him again. But I don’t know that I will, and I -- I wanted him to remember my face.”

Peli gaped at him, horrified. “So let me get this straight. You lost your boy. And your ship. And your creed? Just since the last time I saw you?”

He was quiet.

“Dank farrik, Mando!” she bellowed. A flock of lesser nightwings roosting on the roof took flight, scattering in the moonlight at the sound. “Look. You can dock here as long as you need, all right?”

He shook his head. “People are hunting me. What else is new?”

Peli frowned. “Fair enough.” The guy really didn’t seem to be able to catch a break. “Don’t want to put you at risk, in case you do get to see him again. And I’ll be pulling for you on that, believe you me. We’ll get you out of here, quick as we can.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You know, I figured out what it is,” said Peli. “What got me. You and Grogu remind me so much of Prida and Nedhi -- the two of you against the world.” Her mouth quirked up to one side in a half-smile. “Just don’t forget to visit old Peli if you get him back, you hear?”

“Sure. Maybe you can teach me some of those bedtime stories for him,” said Mando. “For -- for the future.”

“Absolutely.” She kicked her heels against her crate, rapping an aimless pattern as she did so. The firewhiskey was starting to kick in a little, and she made a decision. “Look… just so you know, repairs on your ship are on me this time.”

“No,” he said sternly. “Full price. Plus extra for the food and the chocolate.”

“No,” Peli insisted. He was an obstinate one, that was for sure. She could see where the kid got it from. “Fine. Half price. You overpaid me the first time, remember?”

He let out an annoyed grunt. “Three quarters.”

“Deal,” she said, smirking. “You’re something else, Mandalorian.”

He seemed to be thinking hard about something, though it was difficult to tell with the helmet. Eventually he said, “Din.”

“Eh?”

“My name is Din Djarin,” he said.

She blinked. “It’s a good name,” she said lamely. Huh. She hadn’t expected that. But then again, maybe Mando didn’t sit on him as easily as it used to. The thought made her sad, the feeling mingled with a sense of something like honor, what with him sharing this with her. She suspected it was something he had done very few times before.

“All right, Din,” she said, trying it out. It felt heavy, and strange, but right. “Don’t worry. I won’t spread it around.”

“Thanks.”

She glanced at her chrono, realizing how long they’d been up on the roof. “Well, I guess I’d better check on how the droids are getting on with your ship, since you’ll need to get going.”

“I... have a little time,” Din said slowly, glancing at her. “Got any more of that chocolate?”

She grinned at him, heartened. “For a friend? Yeah. Of course I do.” She reached for his cup and refilled them both with the last of the spiked hot chocolate. She passed him his cup and he held it up for a toast.

Peli hesitated, then smiled softly. “To those we carry with us.” Her cup clinked against his, a bright and hopeful sound.

“To those we carry with us,” Din echoed, and the mingled grief and gratitude in his voice cut her to the core.

The moons above them glowed in soft whites and yellows against the endless sky, and the stars wheeled. Below them, Mos Eisley lived and hummed and moved on, its citizens striving, searching, seeking. The mechanic and the man in armor sat on the roof under the stars and moons, enjoying the taste of hot chocolate and firewhiskey in the cool winter air, and for at least a little while, they did not fear the dark.

***********

(Bonus: a doodle I did of their initial meeting.)

#the mandalorian #din djarin #peli motto #grogu #the mandalorian fanfiction #noromo mando #my mando fic

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

Text

I Just Need a Lover (So Gimme What I Want) | Rosnali

Title: I Just Need a Lover (So Gimme What I Want) Summary: Rosé is in Chicago to do a long-awaited show with Denali, but their reunion stretches far beyond doing a few numbers in a club. Word Count: 1608 Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E

read on ao3 | ko-fi

Doing a show together felt inevitable for Rosé and Denali. As soon as they were able to, they jumped on the opportunity. And Rosé was just excited to be in Chicago too – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been.

Rosé hadn’t even opened his suitcase when he heard a knock on the door, but he dropped it instantly to rush to open it. “That was quick. You miss me that bad?” he smirked.

Denali scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I missed you, Rosie,” and despite the faux-annoyed expression, he threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“I missed you too,” he assured, inhaling deeply as he rubbed Denali’s back, the scent of his cologne reigniting the memory of every other time they’d gotten the chance to be close, those times too few and far between for their liking. Just because they had gotten used to the eight hundred mile distance doesn’t mean it ever became any more bearable.

And it wasn’t as though they had been completely alone, their respective open relationships had never changed. But the connection they had formed without so much as a proper kiss left the two of them yearning for each other. Playing it up for laughs in front of the fans, to their surprise, only exacerbated it.

“Everyone’s excited for the show tonight,” Denali said as they settled onto the hotel room bed. “I really hyped you up, so you better not disappoint,” he jokingly warned.

“I only ever disappoint my extended family, don’t you worry,” he chuckled.

------

The energy of the crows was electric, it was addictive. Denali, Rosé, and everyone else in the show fed off of it and it kept them going. It gave them the engagement they had been missing when they were confined to their bedrooms and online communication. It carried on after their set as well, fans buying them drink after drink, allowing them to let loose and have fun.

That was how they ended up on the dance floor as soon as they were out of drag, pressed together with their bodies moving to the thumping beat of the music. It started innocently enough – flirtatious bumping and grinding with anything they might’ve said drowned out by a techno remix of ‘Rain On Me’. But as the night went on and their inhibitions lowered.

“You keep moving your ass like that and I’m gonna end up taking you back to my hotel,” Rosé warned into Denali’s ear, his hands on his waist, holding onto him even though he’d never made the slightest attempt at moving away.

Denali responded by pointedly pressing his ass against Rosé’s crotch, his back flushed against his chest. “Rosie, if you haven’t figured out that’s what I’ve been aiming for, I think we’ve got a bigger issue here,” he giggled.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”

In the Uber ride back to the hotel, Rosé felt something he didn’t expect in his tipsy, horny haze – relief. Of course he wanted Denali, people had been calling him out on that for months. But he didn’t want any of the conversations that came with it – how he felt emotionally, what it could mean for their respective relationships and one between them, all of his worries and insecurities. After the shots and the dance-based foreplay, Rosé just wanted Denali in his bed without having to think twice about it.

Denali, on the other hand, had far less on his mind. He’d talked a big game about lusting after his friend plenty of times, the follow-through felt overdue. He didn’t waste any time either – his hand was on Rosé’s thigh in the car, he hung on him in the elevator, there wasn’t a moment between the club and returning to the hotel room that Denali wasn’t making his clingy, needy intentions clear.

Rosé had Denali pinned against the door the second it closed. “How are you so fucking worked up when I’ve barely even touched you?” he smirked.

“I’m worked up because you’ve barely touched me,” Denali replied without missing a beat, then grabbed onto Rosé’s shirt and kissed him fiercely. “I want your fucking Scottish cock already.” He couldn’t resist saying that in an accent, to Rosé’s chagrin.

“Please don’t say that while I’m fucking you,” he gently requested before reconnecting their lips in another heated kiss.

Denali laughed into the kiss as they stumbled back and fell onto the bed. “I just had to get it out of my system,” he assured as he tugged his shirt off and, in a moment of impatience, got Rosé’s off as well.

It wasn’t lost on Rosé, who couldn’t fight off a smirk. “Damn, Dee, if I’d known you wanted me to fuck you that badly, we could’ve worked something out sooner,” he teased as he undid the fly of Denali’s jeans and tugged them down.

“Don’t be smug, I already told you I want you, come on,” he huffed. “Me waiting since we first met is irrelevant.”

But if that was supposed to make Rosé any less smug, it failed miserably. “Since the porkchop lounge? Fuck, I had so many missed opportunities to shoot my shot,” he chuckled as he took his own jeans off. “Guess we have some lost time to make up for, don’t we?”

“You better make it worth my while,” Denali jokingly snapped, then finally got them both fully undressed. “I didn’t spend months talking about your dick for it to disappoint me.”

Rosé snorted. “No pressure, huh?” He looked around and rifled through his bag and grabbed a condom and lube. “Luckily, I’ve never had any complaints.” Before Denali could get another quip in, Rosé kissed him hard, one hand gripping into his hair and the other pushing him onto his back. He picked the bottle of lube up from the bed and slicked up two fingers. “Spread ‘em,” he directed, and when Denali’s legs were propped apart, he gripped his thigh with one hand as the opposite one eased in a finger, then another.

Denali’s eyes fluttered shut and his head pushed into the mound of pillows behind him. He whimpered and whined, hips bucking towards Rosé’s fingers to urge him on.

But Rosé didn’t rush, he wanted to make sure he lived up to however Denali had hyped him up in his mind. So, he was diligent in his prepping, only taking his fingers out when he felt confident that it’d been enough. He picked up the condom and tore the wrapper open with his teeth. After rolling it down his length, he used a bit more lube to slick up his cock, then guided himself into Denali until he bottomed out.

A breathy moan ripped through Denali, his back arched up and his body tensed, only to relax right after. His eyes opened and bore right into Rosé’s. “Don’t you even think about holding back with me.”

“Oh, I know you like it rough,” he winked. Without any further hesitation, he began thrusting, slow for only a moment before he built up to a hard and fast pace.

The sound of skin slapping together was only matched by Denali’s moans. He tried to writhe in tandem with Rosé’s thrusts, but Rosé had a bruisingly firm grip, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. He was pinned to the bed, unable to do anything but take his cock pounding into him. It was rough and intense and got his head spinning – exactly how he liked it. It was addictive, Denali was convinced he could spend the entire night getting railed by Rosé and never tap out.

Rosé gazed down at Denali, moving the hand from his shoulder to wrap around his throat with just the right amount of pressure. “Look at you,” he purred, “taking my cock just as well as I thought you would.” His thrusting became increasingly erratic after a while and he realized he wouldn’t last much longer. So, he moved his hand from Denali’s neck and trailed it down his torso, then wrapped it around his cock, stroking it in time with his movements.

“Fuck!” Denali gasped out in pleasure, thrusting into Rosé’s hand. It didn’t take long until his body began trembling. He could barely croak out a warning before he came, then went limp under him.

“Good boy,” Rosé cooed as he jerked Denali through his orgasm. He picked him back up, his hand splayed in between Denali’s shoulder blades and the other arm wrapped around his waist. He grunted and groaned until his hips sputtered to a halt as he rode out his own orgasm. “Fuck…” he panted softly, gently setting Denali back down before pulling out and throwing out the condom. He grabbed a tissue to clean up the remaining mess, then laid down next to him.

Denali cuddled up to Rosé without hesitation, resting his head on his chest. “Mm, that was perfect, Rosie,” he cooed sweetly.

“Lived up to your expectations?” Rosé chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“At the risk of inflating your ego, it exceeded them,” he retorted, then let out a content sigh. “How long are you here for?”

Rosé let out a tired laugh. “Jesus, you already planning for round two? But I’m here all weekend, don’t worry.”

Denali looked up at him with a smirk. “I’m not worried, but you should be. ‘Cause I’m gonna wear you out, and that is both a threat and a promise.”

And Rosé just held Denali tighter and leaned down, pressing a gentle, tender kiss to his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#rosnali #rosenali #rpdr rpf #rpdr fanfiction #yall better not let this flop after all of this lmao

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zerotoxicdragon · 3 years ago

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Decide doing Translation this fanfic from ao3

https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040782

Some are mistake because google translation can be wrong…

False proposals remain proposals

— Grrr... That fucking KID! I swear next time I'm gonna put my hands on him and finally put him behind bars!

The few policemen who made the bad decision to accompany Inspector Nakamori on his way out to the bar had no choice but to increasingly seclude themselves in their seats in the face of the shouts of their superior. The only person present who seemed unfazed by the din of the man was nothing more or less than the one who organized this small event: the private detective himself Kogoro Mouri, who under the pretext of "it's your birthday" could convince the inspector and some poor devils of the squad to accompany him to one of his favorite bars in the city. Rather the only one who did not need to be convinced was Nakamori. The poor man was so stressed that he had not caught the famous thief in his last robbery two days ago that at the first moment he was offered a jug of alcohol he had already halved it.

- Sure, sure! the culprit interrupted him from his meeting, passing his arm through the neck of the birthday boy. You can worry about that thief another day, tonight is a night to drink!

While the only thing Kogoro was most likely looking for was a mate to get drunk, the officers said the peers couldn't help but think there was something more hidden beneath that "working friends" facade. The detective did not bother to respect the inspector's personal space, not only hugging him with one arm but also giving soft touches whenever he recounted something or a light jolt when the man appeared to stop responding briefly. For someone like Nakamori who considered their space very important... this acting just left them dumbfounded.

Now that you thought about it, haven't you been acting a little close lately?

"Ah, Kogoro..." Nakamori spoke, drunk enough not to remember his companion's last name but sober enough to remember

The detective just mumbled a weak "huh?" before looking at his watch on his wrist. He had to blink a couple of times to stop seeing cloudy and concentrate on the device needles, 1 PM? No, that was-

"One in the morning?" exclaimed suddenly, the adrenaline rush getting him a little drunk. Ran's gonna kill me if I come back so late!

Ran...? the inspector mumbled in confusion before connecting the pieces. Ran was his daughter. He also had a daughter who was probably waiting for him at home. Damn it, Aoko's probably in a rage...

The young cops just felt sorry for them. Like the young people they were, they could still stay at the bar for an extra hour. They did not want to go home, otherwise they would have offered to accompany either man to their homes.

"I'd better take a taxi," Kogoro quickly took his things and prepared to leave, before being stopped by Nakamori.

— Ah, Kogoro, we have to go in the same direction, do you think we could share that taxi?

"I don't see why not," he nodded. Let's go have one on the street, Ginzo.

The officers watched as the two men marched in step, Kogoro again playing his inspector by guiding him with one hand on his back.

Between the three of them looked at each other.

"Hey, don't you think...

— ...it will be possible...

— ...that remotely...

— ...Our inspector and Sleeping Kogoro are dating?

No one at the station seemed surprised to see Nakamori holed up in his office dealing with a powerful hangover. From the moment he entered the building with a face indicating that he was more eager to stay in his bed sleeping than to listen to the complaints of his superior, there was no person in the precinct who wanted to approach because of the fear of irritating him.

A small group of officers had gathered just outside his office, whispering to each other what appeared to be the latest new news from the precinct. The superintendent of Shintaro Chaki, well known for being almost always in a bad mood, was already fed up with his subordinates spending more time chatting like old gossips than concentrating on their daily chores; so he took the opportunity to appear behind the group to repress them.

— What is happening here? asked, very upset about the situation.

"Ah, superintendent! exclaimed the quartet of police among surprised and scared. We were just sharing the news with everyone.

— News? What news?

- You don't know? Inspector Nakamori and Sleeping Kogoro are dating! They are so close that they are even called by their names without honorees.

Of all the gossip I could have heard, the fact that Nakamori had gotten a new partner after so many years was really down the list.

"Oh, oh, oh, my head..."

Inside the Mouri detective agency, Conan watched something amusing as Kogoro bemoaned his hangover lying on his desk. The poor man found himself half-disheveled and with his suit badly worn and wrinkled, he was still wearing the same one from the night before.

"You're an amazing dad." Ran was still quarreling with his father, just as he had barely managed to set foot inside the house. First you're going to drink leaving us alone with Inspector Megure, then I stay up late waiting for you to come back and finally you decide to come back almost noon without even leaving a message on the phone or answering machine!

Yes, Kogoro loved his daughter very much, but the only thing he didn't need at the time was someone yelling at him in the ear at full volume.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured as she massaged her temple. But I told you I don't remember anything from last night! I woke up an hour ago at a motel and I came straight here... I think my self yesterday was drunk enough not to remember where he lived and decided to sleep on the road.

The truth is that waking up there was a rather strange event. Few, very few, were the times when Kogoro did not remember how he had come home after having taken until he almost lost consciousness, but even on those occasions he always dawned in his comfortable bed. That's why it was so rare to have woken up in a motel relatively far from the agency, completely naked and also on the floor for having fallen out of a double bed. Worst of all, his body hurt. Moving, walking, anything was uncomfortable. And even if he was in his forties, there was no reason why Kogoro should feel sore after he had taken it.

"When I went to the front desk trying to pay for the room, the employee told me that I had nothing to worry about, that everything was paid for," she sighed. I wonder if anyone decided to guide me to a motel because he couldn't remember my address... he even bothered to fix everything.

Ran went on to berate his father, who simply tried to sink deeper and deeper into his desk to avoid feeling how every word drilled into his head. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the agency's phone rang and, even if he was not in a position to take any cases, he immediately attended to escape even if it was an instant from his daughter.

— Detective Bureau Mouri, how can I help?

— Mouri-kun! a lively voice answered from the other side. I thought we were friends! I can't believe you didn't tell me something like this.

- Huh? answered in confusion. What the hell was Megure talking about? What was I supposed to tell you?

- Don't play dumb! -Inspector Megure's shout was so loud that even Ran and Conan across the room were able to hear it. How do you think I felt when I found out that one of my closest friends had started dating someone and he wasn't the one who told me?!

For one, two, three seconds.

"HUH?"

Ran had taken Conan to primary school and she was attending her own classes, so Kogoro was now alone at the agency. In theory he was to find himself alone, because in front of him, with his arms crossed and his frown frowned upon, a very annoying Ginzo Nakamori walked from side to side as if going from wall to wall would provide the solution to the problem in which they were.

"Then..." Kogoro began, making Nakamori stop for a moment to pay attention. Everyone in the police force believes that for some reason we are a couple.

"For any reason?" As I heard in the precinct, you couldn't keep your hands still! cried the inspector. Now my superior, Superintendent Chaki, wants me to take my "new partner" to lunch with him and his wife this Sunday!

Mouri snuck into his seat, looking to hide as much as possible from the elder's screams.

- W-but- why did you accept his invitation?

"I had a terrible hangover thanks to your departure last night! I could hardly tell what he was talking to me, I saw myself with no choice but to nod to everything he said. How do you expect that hours after I confirmed to my superior that I was dating, I would simply tell him that I didn't hear him for having the worst hangover of my life? Don't you know how unprofessional that is? I could be suspended!

The detective sighed. They were really in a difficult situation.

- Now what Inspector Megure said makes sense...said he.

"Huh?" What did Inspector Megure say?

- Ah! Well... apparently first he heard the rumors going around your division... And this morning I got a call from him saying that he happened to have to come early to the station and went by the Beika Motel, where he saw you come out first and within minutes of me from the place—he admitted something sad.

For a few seconds they both kept quiet.

But when I woke up in that room I was alone...

"Of course not!" I was just lying on the floor, probably because I fell somewhere in the night. That's why when you woke up you thought you were alone, you couldn't see me on the other side of the bed. Surely I woke up to the sound of the door when you left.

With a whimper of frustration, Nakamori dropped into one of the agency's sofas, too exhausted to think of all the problems that did nothing but pile up.

Everybody thinks we're dating, right? asked Kogoro, to which the eldest nodded. Then why don't we just go play along?

- Play along?

- You know! We had lunch with the superintendent and his wife over the weekend, pretended to keep going out for a couple more days and then we were done! Superintendent Chaki won't know you lied to him, Inspector Megure will continue to trust me, and the other officers will have something else to whisper about for the next two weeks.

Nakamori's first impression was to think that his companion had simply lost his mind. But the more he thought about his options, the only thing he saw possible was what Kogoro was saying. That showed how bad his situation was.

- Good! he resigned himself. On one condition. This will end as soon as possible after that damn lunch.

"Of course I do!" But I too must accept under one condition.

- But you were the one with the idea! Why should you demand something?

— But this must be beneficial to me too! "a sly smile was present on the detective's face." For all of us, we're just going out but there's nothing official yet, so... I want a great public proposal that can become a viral sensation! As today's young people would say: "Do it big or go home."

Nakamori was completely dumbfounded.

"Are you crazy?" Of course not! he growled. We don't have twenty years to do these things! Besides, why would someone like you care about something like that?

"Because," he interrupted, "you just have to think about this for a moment!" The fact that famous detective Mouri Kogoro starts dating one of Tokyo's most prestigious inspectors will be the most important news of the whole month! The public loves gossip," he continued. And, above all, gossip brings fame to those involved. My popularity will grow to the clouds!

For some reason, he wasn't surprised that someone like Kogoro had such a reason to stick with the plan.

— Also when we announce our separation, my mail will be filled with letters from nice girls who want to comfort me! In all those TV scandals it's always the fans who give support to their idols. I could even get an email from my dear Yoko-chan!

There was no choice but to accept.

Surprisingly, Ginzo's confession was a viral hit.

With the help of his daughter Aoko (who was more than happy to be able to participate in something like this) and his friend Kaito, the man managed to film a video in which, laden with gifts, flowers and alcohol, he appeared at the Mouri agency to declare his infinite love for the detective and how much he needed it.

By next morning all of Japan's newscasts were talking about the new Tokyo couple and how popular the two men had become.

Kogoro kept receiving letters from fans congratulating him on their relationship and a few of his love disappointments. Nakamori, meanwhile, was assisted by the detective to have lunch with Superintendent Chaki later that weekend. The man looked strangely happy during the event, even though at work he spent almost the whole day in bad temper it was clear he was quite sensitive to any love-related issue. He could even remember his words in firing the lovebirds in the afternoon: "I'm glad to know you can finally get by. I'm sure Mrs. Nakamori would agree that they make a beautiful couple."

Maybe that's why it was so hard to end that fake relationship after that. It just didn't feel right to do so soon.

The first few weeks Kogoro had taken the trouble to visit Nakamori when there was no customer to keep the farce and keep giving the impression of not-so-young lovers. At least that was his excuse at first, since one day he suddenly realized that the real reason for his visits was to spend as much time as possible with the inspector. More than staying home and watching some Yoko show, he longed more to travel to the police station and simply chat with his "partner" or accompany him until the moment he went home or had a beer at a nearby bar. Far from bothering him, Ginzo gradually began to appreciate every appearance of the detective in his precinct, even becoming disillusioned when he had no news of him for a whole day.

Within a month, when it was already quite safe to announce its breakup, another problem became present. And rather than being frustrated that they couldn't finish everything, deep down they were relieved.

"On the day of the sun, just as Artemis is at the highest point, I am going to take the jewel that is so jealously guarded in the heart of the city.

PD: I send a rose next to this notice to congratulate the inspector on his new relationship and to wish them well. I hope you both can attend my show to receive a surprise worthy of your love.

-Kaitou KID"

Kaitou KID's notices could not be kept secret for long, so just twelve hours after the police received it all the major Japanese media already announced the theft of the famous thief at the same time they used to revive the news of their romance and how they received blessings even from someone like KID. If they broke up now, they were only going to look bad.

The agreement was to wait a while longer after the robbery, until most had forgotten the subject and surprised them with the news of the separation.

But of course, nothing came out as they expected.

Boy, that white-gloved fucking thief had kept his word.

Kogoro ended up accompanying Nakamori to the Beika museum to protect the jewel and, even if he did not finish accepting it, because it had already become a custom for him to see his "partner" work. For some reason he loved to see how the man could control his squad with ease, admired the dedication he put to his work and really left a warm feeling in his chest when in his evening talks drinking at a Nakamori bar he confessed to him that there were few things he loved as much as his work. As promised, Kaitou KID showed up at midnight and stole the jewel in front of the entire police squad and mocking all the security measures taken. At the time of his escape, the thief activated a device that covered the museum's entire main room of confetti and colored papers, raining down even different types of colorful flowers. A bouquet of red roses fell right in front of the inspector, accompanied by a caption reading: "I wish you happiness." and signed by the typical KID cartoon stamp.

And, far from everyone forgetting their relationship, that event only served to make Japanese people want to know more about them and their personal lives. On several occasions the poor men had to deal with reporters and journalists who went to look for them at work or their home in an attempt to get an exclusive interview with one of the two most popular men of the moment. Of course Ginzo, being the professional he was, was always looking for an excuse to politely refuse and get rid of the annoying journalists.

Instead Kogoro...

"Why the hell did you agree to do that interview?" the inspector roared, whipping both hands hard at the desk where Kogoro worked.

- She was a very pretty girl! How could I refuse to receive it? he replied fearfully, aware at the time that perhaps giving an exclusive would not have been the best idea.

"But now all of Japan thinks we're getting married!"

Maybe during the interview the lie got out of hand...

- Sorry, sorry! he apologized over and over again.

Ginzo sighed. Now there was no chance of ending the farce and not being left as the biggest con artists in the whole country. He watched Kogoro give his speech about how he regretted talking to that girl, but he didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. For a few moments he let his mind wander.

Was this fake relationship worth breaking up?

Even if he was the one who was against the idea at first, at that moment the continuation with the detective didn't sound so bad. It could be a little loose, alcoholic, lazy, lazy... several of those were synonymous, right? But by interacting more personally with him over the last few months he had managed to see it in a new light. Aside from his daughter and a few co-workers, Nakamori now longed for someone else's company. Suddenly all the moments with Kogoro stopped being a nuisance to become something I was looking forward to. The subtle displays of public affection had ceased to be embarrassing to feel more special. And the congratulations they received at some point began to leave a warm feeling in his chest.

Would it be possible that...

Kogoro was shocked to receive a kiss on the lips, shutting his monolog instantly and covering his face with such intense red that anyone could mistake him for a tomato. Within seconds Ginzo parted, also blushing and breathing somewhat agitatedly.

- I'm withdrawing my condition. I don't want this deal to end anymore.

The detective still didn't know what to say, barely able to process what had just happened.

All I knew was that I agreed with the inspector.

— Do those journalists want a wedding? Then let's give her the best wedding in the whole region.

Before he could even give an affirmative, Nakamori had jumped at him again. And far from putting him away, the game followed.

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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I Just Need a Lover (So Gimme What I Want) (Rosnali) - Joley

ao3 link

Rosé hadn’t even opened his suitcase when he heard a knock on the door, but he dropped it instantly to rush to open it. “That was quick. You miss me that bad?” he smirked.

Denali scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I missed you, Rosie,” and despite the faux-annoyed expression, he threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Everyone’s excited for the show tonight,” Denali said as they settled onto the hotel room bed. “I really hyped you up, so you better not disappoint,” he jokingly warned.

“I only ever disappoint my extended family, don’t you worry,” he chuckled.

——