#whatever the ship name between the four

[konjiang]

Luo Binghe trying to court Shang Qinghua goes worse than him courting Shen Qingqiu. (Of course courting with permission of SQQ and MBJ) Shang Qinghua misinterpreted everything Luo Binghe does.

He gives SQH a nice necklace, but SQH reads between the nonexistent line and thinks that LBH wants him to find out the mystery behind it. LBH cooks for him, only for SQH to think he's sampling the food before LBH could present it to his shizun. With no other strategy, LBH kisses SQH. He expects some sort of reaction, but SQH’S responded with, "Very nice kiss, maybe a little less teeth. I'm sure Shen-shixiong would like it." He whines about it to MBJ and SQQ, trying to find ways to make his feelings known.

LBH: "MBJ, how did you do it?"

MBJ: "Noodles"

LBH: "But I already tried food! Shizun, how did you do it?"

SQQ: "I yelled at him"

LBH: "I can't do that. He starts shaking and hiding whenever I slightly show any displeasure."

With the help of his shizun and MBJ, they managed to manipulate SQH into a wife plot with LBH. Even then, SQH thinks LBH slept with him out of necessity.

"..."

[bunny-jpeg]

hi love, may i have some sourdough bread and coffee with max (in a sort of twisted, claiming my rival as mine way). thank you so much and more power to your bakery 💚

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am happily working away at the bakery! clockin' in those hours!! this prompt made me shove all other projects to the side. you literally picked at two of my faves, haha. like YEAH!! so i hope you love this, this was a pleasure to write (now back to my other projects)!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, driver!reader, filth (!!!), smoking, baby trapping, missionary

you sighed and looked over your shoulder, the cigarette still between your fingers, "are you going to keep staring, verstappen or are you going to come over here?"

he uncrossed his arms and went over. he plucked the cigarette out from your fingers and took a drag, "girls like you shouldn't smoke. not very feminine."

you took the cigarette back and looked at him, "oh maxie, if you wanted a girly girl, you watched the ship sail years ago. i used to punch your bullies."

he sighed. you were right. childhood friends to rivals on the track with a dash of friends with benefits or whatever label of the month you chose to define your relationship.

max knew one thing. he wanted to mark you inside and out. he wanted to make sure that you were his. to call what he felt for you love was to call an inferno a spark. as he watched you smoke, he thought about putting his lips on your neck. he wanted to dig his blunt teeth into your throat and watch it bloom purple.

he also wanted to fuck you over the balcony, letting whoever down below know exactly where you belonged. under him. he hated you ferrari as much as he hated you in alpine only two years earlier. he always thought you belonged with red bull, not as a driver, but as a wag.

lately something else had been curling inside of him like a snake about to strike. the rattle of its tail warning his brain that this was what got him going. you. pregnant. with his kid.

end your name's legacy on the track and replace it with his. make sure that your name doesn't end up on the track for a good while, while verstappen survives, if not thrives for a long time to come. if you can't beat a rival on the track, get 'em pregnant!

you stamped out your cigarette of the cement ledge of the balcony before you dropped the butt to the ground. you looked at max, "you're staring at me like i'm a four course meal. can't find someone to get your dick went tonight?"

he had been lying for some time about getting sex elsewhere. it was impossible to sleep with other women when he was thinking about you. he even tried to find women that looked like you but it never cut it.

he snaked an arm around you middle and press his nose into your hairline, "it's been a while since we.. got together. don't you think?"

you looked at him and smiled a little, "are you asking me for sex, mister verstappen?" you chuckled, "i think that breaks several rules." you made a face.

he looked around briefly before he pulled you in for a firm kiss. when he pulled away and said, "if no one knows, is it really rule breaking?" he knew you could never say no to him, so after qualifier when he found a key card to your hotel room in his driver's room, he knew that had scored.

the sex between you two was passionate. it was never a dull moment. when he let himself into your hotel room like he owned the place, you were naked drying off after a shower.

"you dog." you said as you dropped the towel and headed towards the bedroom portion of the hotel room. max followed behind like a happy little mutt with his cock straining in his jeans.

he began to undress when you got up onto the bed. he watched you sitting at the edge while he took his belt off and jeans. you admired his toned figure. he wasn't ugly.

you had seen every phase of max, you two have known each other for far too long. that added to the rush of it all. it would make sense to anyone on the outside that you two would end up together and have like five kids. but instead the games you played were wicked.

once he was naked, he got on top of you. his impressively sized cock rubbed against your sweet pussy. he could feel the wetness against his achy tip.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, his blue eyes bore into yours as he made sure to tighten your legs around him.

you chuckled, "yeah right, verstappen. i think your swimmers died like a million years ago from all the racing." you held onto the pillow under your head. your legs wrapped around him tightly.

he laughed, "fine, fine. i'm joking. i think you're right." he was playing it off cool as if he didn't feel like he was going to jump out his bones at the prospect of getting you stuffed fat with his cum.

you laughed, "you and your dirty talk, verstappen. you always talk about wifing me up and me having your children. like i'm going to retire from racing." you tensed up for a moment when he eventually sank his cock into your soaked pussy.

he fit like a glove, that was how he knew. it was like he molded your pussy for him. no other man could have you and he was going to make sure of that. when he was done with you, you'd be at least five percent dutch.

that'll give you enough to give your hefty sons nice, strong names. legacy names for the track. he rutted against you, heavy, strong strokes. his cock nudged inside of you as he planted his hands on either side of you.

"you look good like this." he said as he pressed himself against you. your soft, pretty tits pressed against his chest as he moved against you.

you were only going to get more beautiful with time. the thought excited him. knowing that he had marked you in such an intimate way, a way that no other driver could. you were his, it was as simple as that!

the idea of you having another rival (or partner) made his skin crawl. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he could predict your movements easily both on and off the track. as he bullied his cock into your sweet pussy, he knew that he was the right fit for you.

he pressed his nose into your neck and continued to thrust into you. your pussy was soft and wet for him. a warmth went through his body as he rocked against you.

"i want to breed you. make you my wife. keep you home with our family. you don't need to be on the track anymore. you've scored more points than any other woman. so, it's time to settle down. we'd make some strong racers." he panted and felt the sweat down his back as he thrust into you.

you held the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "you're a funny guy, verstappen. if you get me pregnant, that kid is getting my last name. and they'll be racing under my country's flag."

he smirked to himself against your neck. you say that now, but a lot can change with time. he dug his fists into the covers and picked up the pace. he loved being so close to you.

your heart close to his. it was almost intimate if it wasn't for the hateful filth that was coming out of your mouths.

"i want you always. i want to ruin you for other men. and i'll make sure that you're not sleeping with other guys." he knew a sure fire way to prevent that, hard to fuck other men when you're full of his child.

"max. you're fucking insane." you panted as you looked at him once more. he knew that you were feeling the height of pleasure, and that honestly made him harder.

that he made you this way.

"i'm fuckin' close."

"good, good. my good wife." he purred, which only made you more turned on. god, what a possessive little freak with the breeding kink!

you clutched onto him tightly and almost bit down on his neck as you came. it washed over you and you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed. then you continued to cling onto him like a lifeline.

he liked the feeling of that and soothed you with gentle words and kissed as he felt close to his own climax.

"max... c'mon. fuck." you moaned as you dug your pretty nails into his back.

he soon after cursed loudly as he slammed his cock into you, making sure you took every last inch. he wanted to make sure that he finished far enough into you that his cum didn't have anywhere else to go but into your womb.

that was his objective. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts. you moaned into the kiss and laid there under him, breathless.

he slowed down his thrusts to catch his breath. you were still clutching the covers under you. you looked amazing under him, he was right. it was where you belonged.

he placed both hands on your stomach and started to thrust once again. one orgasm wasn't going to cut it for him. if he was going to make you a verstappen, it meant making sure his dna stuck to your sweet pussy.

you'd eventually race on sunday with cum still staining your panties and a pray that no one would notice.

-

it was july now and the heat was getting unbearable. it didn't help that sitting on your hips was a six month pregnant belly. you had spent since may in the nice little sundresses that max had picked out for you.

he was painfully doting, making sure the mother of his child had anything she needed. after all, you retirement was sudden and early. such a strong driving career cut short.

"you look so good." he'd often say and his large hands spanned your swollen middle in the hopes to feel his son shifting around. you knew the asshole got off to this.

you were trying to teach your unborn child as much of your mother tongue as possible, while he'd curl up with our middle at night and speak dutch. when you tried to stop him, he simply pressed into you further.

even parenthood felt like a small rivalry.

max believed that he won the rivalry, he was about to championship that year after blood tests came back that you were pregnant. you could've killed him when you stomped out of the doctor's office and almost strangled him.

you'd hate to admit it, but there was a domesticity that you sort of liked. while you were still trying to find things to do post-driving, it was nice to be in one place at one time. what had felt like your entire life had been on planes going between tracks. the press didn't bother you as much once the news cycle of your pregnancy died down and you could just be you.

while you wanted to kill max still, even as he was snuggled up beside you on the couch, his arm draped over your bump, you honestly couldn't ask for a better baby daddy. you wouldn't let max have his victory in your little rivalry, even as the gold ring you wore gleamed in the afternoon light, you'd never admit to your husband that he had bested you. because the way you looked at it, since you shared the same last name, it was your trophy too. <3

[beebazooka]

just happened to land on you, who else?

----- pt. 1/2

daisuke x gn reader fic 𓆩⟡𓆪 word count; 1.1k

content warning: later smut, non-established relationship, awkwardness, NEEDY 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴suke, angst(post crash doomed-ness)

You were Anya's intern— you didn't know what career to pick so you followed whatever your parents thought was best. The money balanced out the negatives; long and unpredictable hours, patient interactions, and differing opinions from coworkers on how to deal with someone. All you needed to get that was a good recommendation and your parents would deal with medical school's expenses.

So you signed up for every advertisement that didn't look scam-y. Until no one would call back, it made sense. You had nothing on your record but a summer job you had at sixteen and a high school diploma. Not exactly the top candidate.

Your last hope was a faded-out pamphlet stapled to an electric post. Reluctantly, you ripped off one of the phone number handouts printed between the dotted punctured lines. That flyer was no doubt, the sketchiest thing you had ever seen in your life. That cartoon horse mascot smiling at you didn't ease any worries despite how much the company probably wanted it to.

<⟡>

Now you were boarding the Tulpar, you could see your new coworkers through the small crowd of higher-ups and last-minute maintenance workers; a bunch of sad sack adults, and a guy like you. Small carry-on bags either held or settled by their feet.

He was friendly, really friendly. He ran over to you immediately, imaginary tail wagging at the mere sight of someone in his age group.

"Daisuke Juárez." He blurted out, extending a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, what?" His eyebrows furrowed as he dropped his hand, looking away. You could see his lips mutter a swear but no sound came out.

"That's my name, sorry for no intro before that..." He gave a nervous chuckle before he offered his hand to you again. You took it, why wouldn't you? It would just make this already weird conversation worse.

A quick shake between new coworkers. Nervous sweat passed back and forth, a cold feeling and a 'clink' sound from his rings bumping against yours. This guy would probably be your only choice for socializing. He had a lot of enthusiasm to pass around and frankly, everyone needed it.

<⟡>

A couple of months on board and by some miracle, he wasn't your thirteenth reason yet. Your boredom wouldn't let you hate him. You looked forward to his shenanigans. To Swansea's dismay, you started participating.

Sneaking sugar packets here, teaming up to cheat on crew game nights there.

Then it happened. That fake scenic sunset display quickly changed to a message so contrasting; Crash eminent. You had no clue what to do other than prepare. The blaring alarms didn't stop even when you ducked down behind the kitchen counters.

<⟡>

Everything was ruined, tousled, destroyed. Emergency foam went off everywhere, closing off the sleeping quarters, and a couple of hallways.

Every day, every new experience drained you. You had to hold back Anya's hair four times as she vomited in between patching up Captain— no, just Curly now.

One day, Swansea gathered up everyone, well tried. He only got the interns to sit down in the living quarters, pacing back and forth while he gave a doomed pep talk to the only people who would listen.

"We're fucked. This goddamn company doesn't care about us or that one of their ships went offline. We're dead meat, just names on a fucking list." He kept pacing. He had that little rasp in his voice, probably from the fact he kept pausing his spiel to take swigs of mouthwash. Daisuke told you all about Swansea's drunken rants whenever the two of you got bored enough. He said he liked the burn. The knowledge that he was ruining his life all over again. He loved it.

"You kids do whatever the fuck you want, 'cause I'm not doing shit. I'm not going to spend the last weeks of my life slaving away at the same company that already took forty years of my damn happiness." Then he walked off, too drunk to stomp away. Going to stand in front of the utility room. The only task he wanted to commit to; stopping others from doing something stupid; he always did. Daisuke could be his whole defense for that argument.

"So that's our advice... We do whatever because we're dying soon anyway." You mumbled after some struggle. Someone both you and Daisuke were supposed to look up to and ask for guidance just told you to fuck around while you still can.

"That's it? Our first fucking trip and we die here?!" You stood up, your anger wanted to move and right now, you didn't want to deny it.

Daisuke let out a quiet sigh, leaning back until his body hit the cold floor, he ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to ease something... anything. "I haven't lived yet. I partied. I jacked around. I don't have anything to actually be proud of. I haven't done anything."

That made you stop. He was right. He hasn't lived and neither have you. You were getting mad at people millions of miles away on Earth, that for sure didn't know your name or face.

"Bucket list." You whispered in that same tone you used to pass jokes to him during lectures with Swansea... a long time ago. He would give anything for this shitshow to be a dream that he could wake up to and have you joke about Swansea's under-eyes over and over again. "We make a bucket list. We do everything before we die when the food and oxygen supply run out.

<⟡>

They wrote down a small list each. It was cute at first, pranking the unbothered Swansea wasn't as fun as before but it was something. They shared a couple sugar packets, helped Anya out for a bit, and destroyed the kitchen by mismatching recipes.

Then their lists went cold and desperate; in tiny, rushed pen-written letters were four words. "Don't die a virgin."

After reading it from the other's list, they looked up at each other. "This is humiliating, you know," Daisuke spoke up first, despite his words he had a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I know." You replied back. This was a horrible way to lose something people said was so sacred, but now, you saw it how it was; just another experience to have before you died.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

[gatorbites-imagines]

Please, please, I'll do whatever you want, just more yautja

Male Elder Yautja OC (Ge'jaar) x male reader

Ficlet

I still don’t really know a whole lot of the yautja lore, but I love them anyways. So, heres me cooking up an oc and hoping it’s somewhat canon because I love yautja and will take any excuse to write about them. Readers somewhat based off of an oc of mine. Reader is also around 6ft 5 inches. Ge'jaar is 9ft or so.

Bako really grew on me for some reason when I wrote this, so lemme know if you guys wanna read about him.

You were old. Very old. You hadn’t kept much track of just how old you were, it didn’t really matter, but you only appeared to be in the 50s or very good 60s. You knew you were a lot older than that, having spent at least 100 years away from earth, hunting. You had returned though, at some point, and settled down in a very defensible cabin far away from much of everything, where you could live in peace with your “dogs”.

Well, you called them dogs, mainly because they walked on all fours and had a tail they’d wag, and followed orders. An ex of yours had called them Kiande amedha, you just called them xenomorphs, or your beetle dogs. Years ago, back when you had successfully killed the bad bloods that kidnapped you and your military unit, you had found this little ugly hissing creature. There was a stereotype that humans would bond with most near anything, and they were right.

You brought the little bugger along on the ship you stole from the now dead bad bloods, which took a long time to figure out how to steer. You named your pet Lucky, and you would later learn she was female. Strangely enough, she seemed to follow you as if you were the queen and not her, so it was all fine. Even if she and her first offspring did kill your ex when he tried to hit and control you. One of her offspring lost a leg in that fight, so obviously his name would be tripod.

Luckily for you, sweet little Lucky didn’t breed like other of her kind. Over the years shed only had about 50 offspring, whom she seemed to raise in the same way you remembered earth dogs would do it, sometimes making you wonder if she was some kind of crossbreed. Having 50 kiande amedha though, made you very dangerous in the eyes of your ex’s species, especially when they learned you controlled them.

Joining the hunt hadn’t been something you had outright planned to do. Or getting juiced up with whatever weird drugs and inventions the clans you were friendly with cooked up. That was why you grew so much taller, and aged so slowly.

Ge'jaar wasn’t part of one of the clans you fought alongside. You two actually met, when a group of young bloods tried to hunt your beetle dogs. Apparently, they thought you would be an easy target, being an ooman and all. Of course, you made sure to show them you weren’t. they successfully killed one of your pets, a spunky one named Hoover because he ate everything. And like any hunter worth their salt, you needed revenge.

It led to some political struggles and conversations between clan elders, since you were pretty much a part of that one specific clan now after so many hunts together.

Ge'jaar wasn’t the leader of his clan, but still counted as an elder. He was handsome, in his own, scaley way. His skin was white and covered in the same dark splotching as all yautja seemed to carry. He wore a lot of the same clothing as most yautja did, and would later on wear a cape you made from the hide of a beast you had hunted.

In the end, Ge'jaar went as far as to apologize and repay you for the dead “hunting hound”. Bako, one of the males from your apparent clan, would later tell you it was because Ge'jaar wanted to fuck you. You were still very salty about Hoover though, so you acted quite nasty and confrontational with Ge'jaar and his clan for a good chunk of years.

The cape Ge'jaar would start to wear, hadn’t even been a gift in your mind. For some reason the elder yautja had followed along for one of your solo hunts, in Bakos words “going on a date” with you. And yes, Ge'jaar was very impressive to watch fight, he was very big and broad, alright? The creatures purple blood sprayed all over his white skin also didn’t help.

You couldn’t even remember what you had said to him, but it must have been some threat or curse as you threw the creatures skin at him, since you only wanted the meat and bones. It made no sense to you at the time why Ge'jaar started wearing the fur, and you hadn’t wanted to ask Bako since the guy had just started cackling at you when he saw it.

It was only years later when you had settled back down on earth, that it really seemed to register to you that Ge'jaar was trying to charm you, in his own yautja way. Still feeling so angry about Hoovers death, even if Ge'jaar himself didn’t do it, you took all the hunting and dead creatures by your ship and hut as a threat or challenge. All the jewelry and armor as harder to explain, and you still had the book about yautja mythology somewhere on your shelf.

At that point, you had just assumed Ge'jaar moved on, since you hadn’t seen him in so long. The only yautja you truly spoke much too nowadays was Bako and those from his clan. And of course, the ones that still owed you favors, just to remind them you were still alive to cash in on it.

You had just returned from one of your trips to the nearest large city, a trip that took you almost two weeks since everything was far away, when you saw him again. Or rather, one of your beetle dogs saw him, a young one named Blue, since his dome of a head reflected blue more than the rest.

Blue had been born, laid? On earth, and had seen very little true combat, so you assumed that was why he was the friendliest of them all. Where most of Lucky’s offspring that had known space and combat stuck to the shadows and settled in the cave system near your cabin, Blue was a real lapdog.

Friendly enough it seemed, to just accept an intruder in your home. Stepping out of your truck, Blue trotted out of your cabin door, which was wide open, looking as happy as a clam with dried meat in his maw. There was a feeling in the air that you weren’t alone, so grabbing at your beloved weapon of choice, you were about to fall back into old habits.

That was until Ge'jaar of all people, stepped out of your cabin, wearing one of your shirts. Well, trying to wear one of your shirts. It was one of the largest shirts you owned, old and worn with some odd shape on the front that might have been a logo once.

The elder yautja looked very comfortable, right at home honestly, his dreadlocks pulled into a bun on the back of his large head, and a damn sleeve of cookies in his massive hand. The confusion must have been so clear on your face, as the retired hunter chittered and laughed, moving closer to help you lug stuff back into your cabin and into your massive basement.

The confusion was strong enough that you just kinda went along with it, moving everything from your large truck and away from sight until you needed it. It was only after you both sat down on the couch that you took notice of the minor changes to your home, it looked very much like Ge'jaar had just moved himself in.

You could have smacked him right then and there, maybe cut all his dreadlocks off and made him swallow his mandibles, but somehow the massive scarred yautja made himself look so innocent and borderline lovable.

Blue, the little fucker, just got comfortable on a large fur Ge'jaar had laid out across the floor, tail whipping all over and knocking trinkets off your coffee table. The little traitor, you knew you spoiled him too much.

It took a lot of explanation from Ge'jaar, and you had a feeling if you hadn’t lived amongst his people for so long you might have lost it, but apparently Ge'jaar had made some plea to his clan leader, and yours since apparently you still counted as one of those, and you two were pretty much married without your approval.

Well, or so you would say, but all your guy’s “dates” and all the “gifts” you passed between you counted as courting. You settling down back on earth just appeared to be retirement in their eyes. It wasn’t like you still hated Ge'jaar, you never really had thinking back, it just… came as quite a surprise.

Ge'jaar still kept on courting you, even when you fed most of the things he caught to Lucky and her offspring. The elder yautja took your claim that Lucky was your child to heart, clicking and purring when she, and by extent her offspring, finally accepted his presence.

Time was a true blur out in the mountains, you only really noticed it by the seasons passing and you needing to go back into town two or three times a year to stock back up. But soon enough Ge'jaar was part of your life, and yes, you still snipped and bit at him sometimes, but this time it was meant as flirting.

Your mate, since that’s what you guys were now, was so patient and seemed to find your human nature endearing enough to pick up on some of it himself. It still felt very weird to be given flowers by a seasoned hunter like Ge'jaar, or to walk in on him watching Gilmore girls with Blue draped across his lap, but you got used to it.

It was probably best that you and Ge'jaar were the ones to get together, since he was older, had already had all the offspring he wanted. The yautja was also confident enough in himself that he didn’t get jealous the same way your ex had. Ge'jaar was hot and he knew this even in his fluffy robe and slippers, though you couldn’t help but miss him in his netting and weapons at times.

It turned out to be a lot more comfortable than you had thought to retire, with your mate who had to be hundreds of years older than you, and your many, many beetle dogs. There were times you debated on going out for a hunt again, as a date, for old times sake, but that was something you would need to discuss with Ge'jaar first.

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 2 - To The Brig With Ye

Step 1: Get Heat on your side.

WC: 4.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

You were surprised to wake up at all when you came to, in what you assumed was some sort of infirmary. The room tilted back and forth slightly, so you assumed you must still be on the ship at the very least. Your eyes fluttered open, finding a face suddenly far too close to your own.

“AHH!” you and Heat both shouted at once, the blue haired man scurrying backwards.

“Heat, for fucks sake I told you not to hover in her face like that!” A feminine voice scolded. You groaned as you tried to sit up, seeing a blue haired woman, her hair wild with spikes that looked like horns, a small set of round glasses, and a black dress bearing some sort of stylized cross. House. She was using a pipette to drip some sort of dark red liquid onto your exposed wound, which looked and felt nowhere near as bad as you thought it would, considering how deep the knife had gone. Your confusion was explained away as the red droplets hit your skin and you watched the flesh begin to sew itself closed, but it only brought up more questions in its place. You'd never seen something like that in One Piece, but then again this world was vast and strange, and people did always seem to heal fast here.

“Sorry, one more minute,” House spoke to you, drawing up more crimson into the pipette and dripping it onto the wound, the last sliver of open wound mending itself closed. “Okay, all done.”

“Uh thanks, House right?” You asked her, running your hand over the healed flesh, not even feeling a scar. It was like nothing had happened at all, save for the rouge red drips of whatever she'd used that remained on your skin before she hurriedly wiped it away with a damp cloth.

“Um, yes,��� she replied unsurely, looking to Heat for clarity as she removed her latex gloves and threw them in a nearby bin. She'd seen the entire exchange on the deck, nobody had told you her name, and yet you somehow knew it. House didn't have a bounty poster, as the doctor of the Kid Pirates she hardly ever left the ship, so while it was understandable that you knew who the big four were, there shouldn't have been anyway you knew her name. “I'm gonna go let the captain know she's awake,” she addressed Heat, a distinct nervous tone to her voice, before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with the tall man, who shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

“What's your name?” He asked shyly.

“[Y/n],” you smiled.

“[Y/n]...” he repeated to himself, a slight blush to his cheeks, “Did you mean what you said?”

“What bit?” You rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand, trying to piece together what had happened between getting hit by a bus and getting stabbed. “Oh, the sex dream stuff? Absolutely, baby” you winked at him, making him blush even more.

“No!” He choked on his breath, hands waving in defence, “I meant- the isekai bit!!”

“Ohhhhhh,” you blinked slowly, “I mean it's my best explanation for what happened. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I got hit by a bus, and now I'm here. This whole world is supposed to be fictional, if this is just a dream then I shouldn't have been able to feel pain, but I certainly fucking felt it”

“And that's why you knew House's name?” He asked, stepping a little closer to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't know it,” you hummed, taking a moment to properly observe the room you were in now. It was darkly decorated in blacks and forest greens, the occasional violet pop of colour, none of the usual sterile whites and creams you'd expect of an infirmary, with two oversized beds (likely meant for larger crewmates), one of which you were currently laying in. Each bed had a side table, a table on wheels that fit over the bed, and a small plain chair for visitors. The whole room was almost a semi circle, save for the section missing on one side where you could see a door, likely to a bathroom. The opposite corner along the flat wall held cabinets and a counter, probably filled with medical supplies, with a small desk in front of it, a chair either side likely for doctor and patient. The beds were also along the flat wall, with a door to your left and another door in the centre of the curved wall in front of you, a small, green velvet couch to its left. The anime and manga had never shown the internals of the ship, but the curved walls and round portholes along them made you wonder if you were inside the forecastle, just behind the large dinosaur skull that acted as a figurehead for the ship. Your eyes came back to Heat, who stood next to your bed, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Yeah I mean, she's not really a well known character, but I guess you could say I'm a big Kid Pirates fan, so I remember a few more obscure characters.”

“From… a manga, you said, right?”

“Yeah. You're familiar with the isekai trope?” you didn't feel like explaining that it was an anime too, you weren't even sure if this world had cartoons.

“I am,” he mused, “and I guess weirder things have happened in this world. But we're gonna need proof, and I don't know how I'm gonna convince Kid”

You thought on that for a moment, “I think I can provide proof,” you mused, “has the crew been to Sabaody yet?”

“No, we're close though,” he told you hesitantly, not sure how much information he should reveal while he not so subtly eyed your body; you'd all but forgotten you were naked. You probably should have covered yourself up but it felt like a bit of a too little, too late situation. The whole crew had probably seen your tits at this point, not that it bothered you much. It wouldn't hurt to placate him either, it would be good to know at least one person on the crew had a fondness for you when it came to convincing Kid to keep you alive. If things really went tits up here you could always try your luck with the Straw Hats, but given the timing that would be difficult, you would have to stay on Sabaody for two years before you could try and join them. Maybe Shakky would let you stay with her in the meantime. Your preference though was to stay with the Kid Pirates, your favourite One Piece crew, and usually the subject of your sexy dreams and explicit fanfiction searches.

Heavy footsteps outside caught both of your attentions, Heat taking a few steps back to stand at a more respectful distance as the infirmary door flew open. Unsurprisingly, Kid stomped in, followed by Killer, and Wire, who shut the door behind him. Kid stood at the end of your bed, looking at you discerningly, an angry scowl on his face.

“Talk,” he said plainly.

“Boss, I think I can explain,” Heat told him, “what she said about isekai, I don't think she's from this world”

“The fuck is ‘isekai’” he growled, billowing his cape up so he could sit on the couch without catching it underneath him. Killer and Wire stood at either side of him like guard dogs, unsure of your capabilities, weary given the fact you'd appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the sea without a devil fruit power to get you here. There was no way of telling what powers you had or how you might suddenly use them.

“It's a trope, in manga,” Heat tried to explain, “the protagonist is sent to another world. Usually they die and get reincarnated, or some sort of god sends them there, to a usually fantasy world. I think that's what happened here, she claims she knows us because we're fiction in her world, and that she appeared here after she died in her world. Its a classic isekai premise.”

“Bullshit, she knows us from our bounty posters,” Kid huffed, unconvinced by Heats explanation.

“She knew House's name,” Heat replied. There was a pregnant silence as Kid considered that, his eyes flicking between you and Heat.

“Okay, so she's… from another world. If I chose to believe that,” Kid grumbled, “and she knows us because what? We're a comic book or some shit? They got comic books about the great Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid over there?”

“Well… they're not really about you per say,” you replied delicately, knowing the truth would piss him off.

“Then who the fuck could they be about?” Kid puffed up his chest, “why would they write about anyone other than the future King of Pirates?”

“They're uh… about Monkey D. Luffy…” you replied quietly. “Not that you're not also a very popular character!” You quickly added.

“STRAW HAT?” Kid roared, spooking you as he suddenly stood, “fucking STRAW HAT gets a comic book? Nah, fuck that, put this lying bitch in the brig.”

“Wait! Wait!” You quickly shouted, climbing further up the bed to avoid Killer's reaching hands, “I can prove it! I can tell you what'll happen when you get to Sabaody!”

“Sabaody is weeks out,” Kid huffed, “I ain't waitin’ for your lyin’ ass to be proven wrong so you can sit around in the meantime and find an opening to kill one of us. Devil fruit or no, you were obviously sent here to stop the best competition for finding the One Piece”

“Really? You think someone sent me here naked? Slammed me against the mast, no weapons, no devil fruit, no fighting skills, to kill you?” You rolled your eyes, “I can give you other proof, I can”

“Then fucking give me your proof, mouse,” Kid growled, the bed creaking as he leaned over you, his hands either side of your body. He probably wanted to intimidate you with his large form, but really it only served to make you a little horny.

“Killer wears purple lipstick,” you hurriedly shouted, the first thing that popped into your head as you searched for information only they should know. The room went silent before Kid suddenly wrapped a hand around your throat. He squeezed it threateningly, then he threw you back with a frustrated growl, letting you go as he moved to leave the room. He gave Killer a knowing look before turning back to Heat.

“Chain her in the brig,” Kid hissed, “I don't know where she learned that but I don't fucking trust her. Put her in iron too, there must be some trick, witch or some shit”

There was a flurry of movement as you were again left alone with Heat, Killer sparing you an unreadable look before slamming the infirmary door, clearly angry. You didn't like that you had to expose him like that, even if everyone in the room likely already knew that information, but it was him or you, and you had to act in self defence. Not that it'd helped in the end though either, as Heat apologetically dragged you off the bed and clamped your arms behind your back, wrapping one large hand around both of your small wrists at once to secure you as he led you out of the room.

Eyes followed you silently as you were led across the deck, still naked as the day you were born, revealing you had in fact been in the forecastle. Heat took you directly across to the rear of the ship, opening a door and leading you through a galley. The short view you got of the galley revealed a long room, with a serving window and counter on the left that peeked through to a moderately sized industrial looking kitchen. On the right was some sort of stage at the very end of the room, short stairs on either side leading up to the platform that currently held a long table surrounded by six chairs, a small liquor bar behind it. On the main floor between you and the stage were five long tables, a bench style seat along either side. The walls were decorated in band posters, bounty posters, photos of the crew together, newspaper clippings and all manner of souvenirs pinned to the walls, covering them in what spoke of a crew that acted more like a family, with many happy memories together all memorialised along the dining hall walls.

Heat led you to a staircase at the left of the room, following you down into a hall that was noticeably colder than above, likely due to being particularly below sea level. There was a short hall that split into two longer ones, they looked as though they made a loop around a center set of rooms, the walls lined with doors, no doubt bedrooms and storage rooms. He didn't lead you down either of the long halls, instead taking you to the end of the short one where a steep staircase, practically a ladder, led even further down to the hull of the ship. Heat gave you a little shove forward and you took the hint with a sigh, at least thankful that he'd let go of your wrists now so you could climb down.

You waited patiently at the bottom of the ladder beside a closed door as Heat climbed down after you. He fiddled with a set of keys that hung from his belt, unlocking the door and opening it, beckoning you to pass through. Inside was a series of cells, four in total, with iron bars at their fronts, each with a set of bare bunk beds with thin, stained mattresses, and a metal bucket in the corner, likely in lieu of a toilet. Unexpectedly, each cell was also trimmed in what looked like some sort of ancient symbols written along the floors and walls, a dark rusty colour that made you wonder if they were written in blood. The writing looked like something straight out of a dark fantasy show, with the occasional recognizable pentagram or latin in neat cursive letters. The doors to all four cells were open, seemingly unoccupied, and Heat gestured for you to enter the second, which sat directly across from a small desk, decorated only with a plain wooden chair and simple lamp.

You stood inside the cell, shivering as the air was considerably colder now that you were well under sea level, chilled by the cold ocean around you. The walls and floors offered no warmth, plated in what appeared to be stone, seastone perhaps. The wall behind the desk was lined with hooks holding multiple sets of cuffs in different styles. Heat selected a set of iron cuffs, with only three links between each wrist, and you sighed as you willingly held your hands out for him. There was no point fighting it, and forcing Heat to subdue you would only go against your plans to bring him to your side.

“Sorry about this,” he said softly as he closed the cuffs around your wrists. His hands were so warm against yours, reminding you of your current frigid situation.

“Can I have a blanket or something?” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I.. I don't know if I'm allowed,” Heat replied, a tint of sadness to his voice.

“Maybe we can trade?” You offered, “I.. I only have my body, but maybe I can give you something in return for a blanket?” Was whoring yourself out a good idea? Probably not, given the circumstances, but you'd freeze to death down here if you didn't at least try. Besides, its not like you didn't want to fuck Heat. At this point you didn't have high hopes for surviving this world, but if you got laid with one of your favs then maybe it'd be at least a tiny bit redeemable.

“A trade?” He raised a brow, “like what?”

“What do you want?” You asked him, using your best sultry voice, experimentally pressing a hand to his chest and running it down slowly, pleasantly surprised when he didn't shy away from you. He shivered at the touch, your skin bare against his as your hand reached the bottom of his corset.

“Fuck, okay,” he growled, looking back at the door to the brig to check he had shut it, “on your knees, for a blanket”

“Yes sir,” you purred, perhaps a little too eager for Heat's dick. You would have traded a blowjob for a corn chip, if you were being honest with yourself. You fell to your knees slowly, trailing your fingertips down his midriff till they caught on the belt of his baggy pants. Raised on your knees, you could barely reach the flesh of his abdomen with your mouth as you hooked your fingers in the metal loops on his belt and used it as leverage to lower his pants, pressing your lips to the newly exposed flesh. He made a sharp exhale as your tongue came out to run over the V that led to his cock, pulling his pants down teasingly slowly and looking up at him with sultry eyes as his hand buried in your hair. Finally his pants lowered enough to expose his cock, long and girthy even at half mast, slightly more bulbous at the end with a set of three piercings along the underside, another at the tip, and a base of blue public hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head. He shivered as the cool air touched his exposed cock, quickly overruled by a groan as you took it in your bound hands and pumped the base, promptly becoming erect from your firm, warm touch.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this,” you purred, pressing your tongue to the tip, playing with the piercing and rolling your tongue over the fat head of his dick. He groaned as you took the end in your mouth, only taking a third of him as you began to bob your head, stroking the rest with your hand as you slowly adjusted and took a little more with each movement.

“Oh fuck, that's good,” Heat groaned, his hold on your hair tightening as you slowly worked towards taking all of his impressive length into your eager mouth, drool starting to drip down your chin as you focused on not gagging, breathing through your nose to suppress your natural urges. Your eyes watered as he started to hit the back of your throat, his hips making small thrusts in time with your movements, trying his best to hold back from just grabbing your skull and face fucking you. He'd been pent up for a while now, with a long stint between islands with working women, and a distinct lack of women in the meantime who were willing to risk their safety to sleep with the tall, stitched up man. By all accounts he looked terrifying to most women, so your willingness to get on your knees was certainly a nice surprise, seemingly having no issue with the way he looked. He felt bad at first for taking advantage of you, but the way you kept eye contact and hollowed your cheeks around his cock told him you wanted this, that the blanket was just an excuse to get in his pants. Really he should be the one feeling used, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but euphoric with the divine way your mouth was working his cock.

You paused as your nose hit his pubes, your now idle hands coming up to play with his balls, gagging a little as you swallowed around his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” Heat groaned, looking down at you with his dick fully burried in your hot wet mouth. “Look at you, taking it like a proper slut, you like that huh? Like having my cock down your throat?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop as your thighs rubbed together in a desperate need for friction, you wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping on the floor at this point from how wet you were. “I'd like it better in my cunt,” you replied, stroking him with both hands, hoping above all that he'd take the bait and fuck you silly.

“Yeah? And what would you want to trade for that, huh?” He growled, wondering what game you were playing to be so willing, questioning whether this really was just a trick.

“One of your blankets,” you purred, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and feeling the piercings roll against it. “I want one that smells like you”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Heat replied, genuinely taken aback by your answer. He'd never known a woman to want him that bad, let alone just want something that smelt like him. It was making him feel sparks of something unfamiliar, possessiveness perhaps, fondness definitely.

“Because you're sweet, and you're sexy, you're one of my favourites,” you shrugged, “are you gonna fuck me or not? The stone is hurting my knees and my cunt is fucking dripping”

“Fuck,” Heat huffed, pulling you by your hair to stand and crashing his mouth against yours, groaning as he found you more than willing to return his affections. He walked you backwards until your body was flush with the cell wall, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled away and spun you to face the wall. You arched your back and stuck your butt out for him, your tits squished against the stone as Heat admired your round ass. He gave it a playful spank, making you whine, before he grabbed handfuls of your ass cheeks and pulled them apart to admire your soaked pussy. “Fuck, you weren't lying, you're really fucking wet”

Unable to resist a taste, he knelt behind you and buried his face in your center, motorboating your cunt, your slick coating his face. He groaned against your pussy as his tongue zeroed in on your clit, making you moan and push back against him. His hands held your ass firmly, squeezing it to keep you in place as he sucked and lapped at your clit, before standing back up, running his tongue over your entrance and asshole as he moved.

“So fucking wet for me, so sweet too,” he groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your needy entrance, your hips wiggling as you whined pleadingly. “Hold still, fuck,” you only managed to still for a moment before he pressed in, bullying his tip inside you and stretching your underprepared cunt wide. “Ah fuck, so tight,” he grunted as he slid inside you, bringing one hand to your mouth to clamp over it and muffle your sounds as you began to scream at the stretch.

His fingers slid into your mouth and you sucked them greedily, moaning around them as he bottomed out inside you. “Good girl, fuck, good little slut,” he groaned, giving you only a moment to adjust before he was dragging back out again, leaving only his tip inside you as he slammed back in. His fingers left your mouth so he could hold your hips firmly, fucking you hard and fast with the intention of making you both cum quickly before anyone caught you in the act, his cock heavy against your g-spot and stimulating it deliciously with every hard thrust he made. Your palms were flat against the wall, holding you steady as your body took the brunt of each impact, breasts grazing on the stone wall and drool transfering to the cool surface as Heat fucked you mercilessly.

He pulled you a little away from the wall, your tits now bouncing with every thrust as they hung freely until Heat reached underneath you and grabbed them, pulling you up and holding you with your back flush to his chest, one hand groping your tits still while the other wrapped around your throat, slowly travelling upwards till his fingers were buried in your mouth again, muffling your moans against the wet slapping of his body against yours. His teeth grazed your neck, wishing he could sink his fangs into you as they grew in his mouth, canines extending unbeknownst to you and running over your skin, knowing if he made a mark he would be caught. He was having trouble keeping in control of himself as you sucked on his fingers and your pussy fluttered around his cock, gummy walls clamping down around him as your eyes rolled back and you came on his cock without warning. A creamy ring formed around his base as he kept fucking you hard, chasing his own high now and trying to figure out where would be appropriate to cum.

“Get on your knees again,” he ordered, pulling his fingers from your mouth and withdrawing his throbbing cock from your cunt. You dropped to your knees willingly, opening your mouth invitingly for him with your tongue stuck out. He considered just jerking himself off over your face, painting your pretty fucked out expression with his cum, but worried about your inability to clean yourself off down here, so instead he shoved his cock down your throat, holding your hair with both hands as he began to use you rougher than he intended. You moaned around him at the surprising treatment, eyes streaming with unintentional tears as his cock gagged you with every hard thrust, until he finally stilled with his shaft balls deep in your mouth and you felt the hot cum pouring down your throat, his hands pulling your hair while he grunted. You shivered at the feeling, almost cumming again from it, playing with your oversensitive clit as he unloaded in your mouth. He pulled away slowly, the last drops of cum spilling against your tongue as you licked the tip. He slapped your cheek with his softening cock, giving you an appreciative grin as he slid his finger into your still open mouth and played with your tongue.

“I hope Kid decides not to kill you,” he mused as he helped you to your feet, pinning you against the wall again, his hand running up your thigh and hip till it came to rest at your waist. “Would be a real shame to waste a good set of holes like that”

“Tell him to come try me himself, maybe that'll convince him,” you suggested, “unless you wanna keep me all to yourself”

“Mm, tempting,” he mused, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “I don't mind sharing though, besides, I doubt I could keep you to myself even if I wanted to if one of the others decided they wanted a turn. Maybe we'll make you our ship whore”

“I'm not opposed to that,” you purred. Heat made a huff and started stepping away.

“Fuck, you really are a Kid Pirate fan huh?” He laughed, “I'll get you your blanket, but be a good girl and behave yourself until I can convince Kid to let you go”

“I'll be on my best, naughtiest behaviour,” you winked, shivering a little now that you didn't have his warm body to keep you heated. He frowned as he watched you shiver, realising how much you really did need the blanket.

“I'll find you some clothes too,” he said softly before turning to leave, disappearing before you even had a chance to respond.

[Next Chapter]

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Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @nocturnalrorobin @eyes-ofhell @hellcatsworld @miyomoko-sora @loserbee14 @tzimiscequeen-blog @lansy-4

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 3

Who didn't tell me the actual ship name was blueberrycake. What the flip guys.

Anyway, I saw this post and was like omg I need it. So I wrote it.

Part 3 if you will.

-> Part one

-> Part Two

☁ There was something be said about your resolve. Or your spite. Or your absolute lack of self-preservation.

☁ Cosmo wasn't sure which one it was yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Not yet anyway. For the sake of your newly budding relationship.

☁ It had been a slow process admittedly, between the four of you, talking and discussing the boundaries you all had and laying them out in the open, along with the expectations you all had for the relationship.

☁ You all were still getting used to each other, and honestly Cosmo wasn't sure if you all were 'official' or just...seeing each other? Glisten had told him there was a difference. He didn't think there was but apparently there was a huge difference between seeing each other, going out, dating and being official.

☁ It was startling to suddenly have to have the difference of all of these explained to him in what was supposed to be a five floor run for pops to restock. It turned into a five floor lecture with Poppy, Glisten and Scraps all explaining the differences to him from across the rooms they were in.

☁ A strange day indeed. He was mostly just glad the others weren't there. You were still recovering and Astro had taken to ensuring you were actually bed resting and not doing...whatever it is you do when you're not listening to common sense. Sprout is with Pebble, making sure the little rock dog is back on track with his healing so he can hopefully be part of a future run.

☁ Leaving Cosmo the unfortunate sole victim of the chat. Even Teagan got in on it, prodding his cheek with a finger and knowing grin, going on about he was quite the 'heartbreaker'. He didn't want to be that! He quite liked you all!

☁ Looking onwards, he wondered how that happened. At one point did he look at what was before him and go yeah thats the one. Because he had questions for his past self. Lots of questions.

☁ "How many is that?" He has to ask, leaning over to where Astro is watching silently, amusement written on the celestial's face. He lost count after #15.

☁ "This is thirty two." Astro hummed, using a star shard to catch a tower of empty pudding cups that had begun to fall. They were disposed of properly as you cracked open what was your thirty-third pudding cup, sticking your spoon into it eagerly. How this happened? Cosmo didn't know. He walked in at the seventh, and even then questioned what the hell you were thinking.

☁ Beside you, Gigi and Goob were cheering you on, bringing more pudding cups out of...Well, Cosmo wasn't even sure where. Just that now there were more. You didn't need more.

☁ "Does Sprout know?" Cosmo continued to ask, leaning to lay on Astro. He was warm and the fur of his blanket was soft. Cosmo probably could've fallen asleep there really if he wasn't too busy watching the crazy shitstorm in front of him.

☁ "Nope." Came the very answer Cosmo was expecting. Probably for the best if he thought about it. If Sprout knew he'd stop it. Himself and Astro both were more curious to see the outcome then they were to stop it. Was there a limit?

☁ You would find out.

☁ Hopefully before Sprout showed up, but that was neither here nor there.

☁ The pudding cup was stacked on top of your most recent pile and number thirty-four was opened.

☁ "We're going to have to deal with this later." Astro tacked on, laying his head on Cosmo's. Cosmo hummed in acknowledgement having accepted that at cup seventeen.

☁ He could only imagine what thirty four pudding cups (And counting) could do to your poor tummy. That was part of science though.

☁ "Whatever happens, we will use this against them for the rest of their life." The roll huffed, glancing to the doorway out of instinct. He could faintly hear Sprout talking with Vee, the most recent recovery, most likely about the latest gossip around Gardenview.

☁ Oh little did they know.

☁ Thirty-five was opened and primed as you slapped down number thirty four.

☁ "This has gotta be some kind of world record." Astro pipes up again, eye darting to where Cosmo had looked off too. "Ooh, Wardens here." He teased, making Cosmo grin.

☁ The thirty fifth pudding cup, no empty, was slammed down as your eyes darted to where they sat, wide and scared. "He's not-"

☁ Goob and Gigi seemed to take this as a challenge, pushing more cups into your hands. Gigi claimed she had a bet going she needed to win while Goob was probably just there for the thrill.

☁ The added challenge of speed seemed to turn up the pace, cutting through four more in the blink of an eye.

☁ Number fourty was in hand and on its way to being devoured when the shrill gasp they all had been waiting for cut in.

☁ "What in Dandy's name do you think you're doing?!"

☁ Cosmo had to laugh. He had to. This was too good. It was too much watching Sprout try to charge you as you just as quickly try to eat your fortieth pudding cup. Incredible. Truly.

☁ And better yet, you were never living it down.

☁ Even after the night of constant tummy aches and your whines as they took turns caring for you, it followed you in teasing reminders whenever you so much as looked at another thing of pudding.

☁ It wasn't until you all were focusing on the trying to get the newer toons back that the it dropped the first time.

☁ You were on standby as Pebble took over distracting for a round, sticking close enough that you could use your spare air horn should Pebble stumble at all. But since you also couldn't help yourself, you were leaning on Cosmo's back as he was doing a machine, poking and prodding at his face when he didn't immediately give you what you wanted.

☁ Which was attention. Which his was taken as he tried to not mess up his skill checks and get you both caught and make Pebble's life that much harder.

☁ Still you persisted until the light of his machine blinked green and he was finally able to turn to face you. You stumbled, landing on his chest as he caught you, raising a non-existent eyebrow at your antics. "Listen, pudding cup, you can have all the attention you want, but you gotta be patient."

☁ You opened you're mouth for a rebuttal before pausing, finger raised in the air as the words registered. He snickered at the face you were making, turning and moving on to the next machine.

☁ "What did you call me?" You asked, quickly running to match step with him while also keeping an eye on Pebble.

☁ "C'mon, you don't think eating 40 pudding cups is gonna earn you some kind of nickname?" He threw back, hiding behind a stack of boxes with you as you heard Pebble bark, alerting anyone in the area he was on his way.

☁ "Could've been 41 but, someone hates fun." You grunted, looking in the direction you last saw Sprout headed.

☁ Rolling his eyes, Cosmo shot you a look. "I hope you remember the stomach ache you had to endure."

☁ "Yeah. but I would've had it no matter what. I could've at least found out what the limit was." You pouted.

☁ "Uh huh and even if you had, that wouldn't change anything about the nickname. Would it, pudding?" He teased.

☁ The nickname didn't leave no matter how much you wanted it to.

☁ Every time he had the opportunity, Cosmo was using it. Dropping it as he passed behind you in the kitchen ("Watch behind, pudding cup!"), during runs ("Twisted to the right of ele, Puddin'."), even during your down time! ("Pudding, Astro's looking for you!")

☁ Which was fine, really, you didn't mind the nickname. Sprout still called you Bud more than your actual name. But that was where the affections from him stopped.

☁ He let you all hang all over him and accepted kisses to the cheek with stammered words, flustered in a way that was too adorable to be any actual deterrent.

☁ You were half convinced he didn't think he was allowed that privilege. Which was cute, in an odd sort of way.

☁ You were watching Cosmo as he iced some new cookies, leaning on the counter with the same look in your eye that he's sure started the pudding debacle.

☁ He paused, mid dollop on an icing petal before looking up at you. "Can I help you, pudding?"

☁ "You're hiding something."

☁"Am I?" Cosmo hummed, switching colors to a bright blue that was sure to stain your teeth. The way nature intended.

☁ "You are. I can sense it. It's like I have the force." You nod resolutely. "Or like boyfriend intuition." You paused, holding your hand to your chin. "How long does that take to develop? We haven't been together all that long but what if I developed it like the second we were together? Wouldn't that be cool? I wonder if it works on Astro. Sprout talks to much so I don't even need it for him-"

☁ "Are we...Together, I mean?" Cosmo suddenly cuts in, halting your rambling. Normally he loves listening to your little spiels, but the topic being brought up is enough to have him spilling. "Or are we just like dating- or maybe just seeing each other? I-"

☁ "Have you been talking with Glisten?" You suddenly ask, a soft smile on your features as you slide off your perch to walk around the counter. "Because he's given me the whole 'are you actually exclusive' talk before too."

☁ Cosmo pauses before huffing. "Yeah. Him, Poppy and Scraps. I just...I don't know if we put a label on it."

☁ "Oh you silly cream puff. You know you can just ask us this stuff, right?" You grin, wrapping your arms around his waist with a bright grin. "They think that just because their love lives are messy all of ours have to be messy too. I promise we're together, exclusive, partners. Whatever wording they used. I know the other two would agree too."

☁ Cosmo heaves a sigh of relief, leaning his forehead onto yours. "I was honestly scared of what you'd say."

☁ "Well, don't be." You snorted. "You're lucky it was me who started this conversation. Could you imagine Sprout's reaction?"

☁ "I try not too. "

☁ "You might've spent Astro tumbling with you." You laugh.

☁ "I wouldn't have let him, you know that, pudding." Cosmo chuckled before stilling, swallowing. "Can I-...Can I kiss you?"

☁ "I'd be mad if you didn't."

☁ With a laugh, Cosmo angles his head down, his lips meeting your own in a sweet kiss.

☁ When the other two find you, both of your mouths are stained purple as you share a plate of cookies between you.

☁ "I thought the cookie cutter didn't allow for you guys to put in the purple petal." Astro hums, taking a cookie for himself and scanning it. No purple petals to be seen, but he bites into it anyway, humming happily at the taste.

☁ "It doesn't." Sprout answers, looking at the cookies that were sans said petal. Their flower cutter only had five petals as opposed to Dandy's six, so they just omitted the purple petal when making Dandy cookies. Or they normally did.

☁ "There was some extra red icing." You answer, leaning onto Cosmo's shoulder. "I helped dispose of it."

☁ "You're lips are purple." Sprout deadpans.

☁ "There was also some extra blue." Cosmo flushes as he avoids looking at the other two.

☁ There's a moment of silence before Astro is laughing so hard at Sprout's face he chokes.

[respectthepetty]

Before I start whatever it is I do over here in my little corner of the interwebz for episode fifteen of Fourever You, what does "He's into the native local lifestyle again" mean? What are they saying about my piranha-bitten Black Brooder? Because it feels . . . pointed, and I need clarification.

My boy comes to collect them next week because He. Is. A. Good. Boy. so I need to know in what way they are slandering his name, but I don't understand what they are saying well enough to be adequately upset. Help me be the appropriate amount of mad at Hill and Johan for this comment by explaining it to me.

And now back to the episode where we see Yellow Yal (East)Ter trying to brighten up Green Guy North because his Red Rascal (sometimes Brown Boy) Johan is on a business trip, for like a whole day!

Yes, judge your bestie, babe! JUDGE HIM!

But at least this means North has time to sit in his greenness at the school fair since he is so fresh to this "being madly in love with a boy who is great at all things" thing.

Which gives me time to focus on Tonfah.

AND THIS AWKWARDNESS BETWEEN HIM AND TYPHOON!

What is this energy, sirs? Have y'all already slept together, and we won't know until the second part, which I BETTER BE GETTING?!

Blue Boy Hill, what do you know?! You knew Johan's secrets. You seem to know Arthit's too. So what the hell is happening with the Weather Boys! I NEED PART TWO NOW! Let me pray with Ter.

And now I have to deal with these two WHO STILL AREN'T TOGETHER! Will I have to wait until the second part for them too?! Dear God, help me!

Wait, which one of you said that?! Who said they liked blue?! Typhoon?! Dao?! I won't even know your colors until the second part either. I better get this second part!

But at least I'm getting this crazy kid flying all the way back after hearing North say he missed him since he was gone for *checks notes* four days? Is that correct?! FOUR DAYS?!

Whatever! Time is merely a concept, but this love is real.

Yeah, hold his face and tell him you missed him after *rolls eyes* four whole days.

Then hit me with that green light!

And a proposal . . . to be boyfriends? The gays are so dramatic!

Thank goodness for that too because it gave me an entire sequence of Ter being adorable about it!

I need screenshots of it too!

This is truly what it feels likes to finally see my ship sail.

And this is what I'm going to look like when I'm watching Goddess Bless You From Death.

Wait, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!

I barely got colors in this episode, I have more questions than answers, and now Johan and Hill just decided to move their boyfriends out of the dorm while they distracted them with a movie without discussing it with them first. How, Sway?!

I love this mess.

[padawansuggest]

Took a shower (thank the lord right) and accidentally created a new AU in my noggin be warned this one is super wild. Includes: Baby-Wan and ouchies and time travel

Obi-Wan goes back in time (whatever maybe he did it himself maybe someone did it to him maybe he did it on accident but it’s post ANH okay) and suddenly finds himself in his toddler body.

You know what his first thought is? Cody. And absolute grief because his soulmate HAD been there in the force with him but now he’s gone. So what does Cody make him think of? Jango. Which means he’s all ughhhhhhhhh I have to go save him, and manages to mindcontrol some guy into getting him off planet. So here he is four whole years old with all the adult emotions trapped in a baby body what can go wrong??? Pirates. Obviously.

Frankly the only reason he doesn’t feel bad about the guy he mind controlled cause he was already gonna end up here so. Whoops.

So who manages to find them of all the damn people? Jaster’s entire ship headed to Korda Six (yes I’m going there the force said ‘I’m gonna give the gays everything they want’ and started with a happy baby’) but having been waylaid by a sudden four year old WITH A KNIFE AND FERAL STUPIDITY on the bridge. He says his name is Cody, he cut Montrose on his calve and it IS gonna require surgery and he bites everyone. Especially Jango. Who is only ten and crying because an ik’aad bit him and Jaster is very torn between giving Jango kisses for his ouchie and helping catch the toddler that knows how to escape through vents and is staging a one toddler zero men mutiny and is loudly telling everyone he’s going to the Jedi.

Maybe he’s possessed. Maybe they can just take him to the Jetii for a quick exorcism and play blaster-armor-saber for who gets the honor of adopting his feral ass.

Till they come across a pirate ship beating up a stranded ship and that’s just not nice so well shit they gotta save them.

Which is how they end up with a traumatized Captain and a stowaway toddler who’s demanding to see Jango once he realizes what ship he’s on. Jango is grumpily dragged in to see him, gets baby attached to his chest (listen he is so over babies now you can let go anytime he’s not interested in getting bit again) and then the vent to the medical room and a feral toddler with a knife comes flying out and demands to get his love back right this fucking instant.

Jaster finally gets a hold of him, disarms him, and puts him in time out before asking who taught him that word that’s not an ad’ika word!

Cody, repentant because adult emotions in a baby body fills you up so much, cries and asks for cuddles. Jaster gives him cuddles before putting in on a cot with Obi-Wan who promptly forgets Jango exists and gives Cody shy baby kisses and holds his hand. Jango is relieved to not be the center of attention for a moment. Till Jaster promptly realizes no one told Obi-Wan who Jango is, why did Obi ask for him?? Obi says he’s a Jetii master trapped in a baby’s body.

Yeah so possession it is. They call up the Jetii and ask if they can come over for exorcisms n chill, the Jetii say they can give them one better can you plz pick up some stranded Jetii along the way? Don’t worry they can assess the situation and see if they need to come in for it. It’s Master Windu and Padawan Billaba! What a surprise! Obi had no idea this could be so easy!

Anyways. So he’s having trouble talking because let’s just say I’ve decided so, so he sorta throws his mental shields down and starts projecting at people, which along with giving EVERYONE a headache, instead of just Mace for once, gives the force the chance to snap a BUNCH of bonds in place. Like a master-apprentice bond with Mace. And vod’e bonds with Depa and Jango. And a Buir bond with Jaster. And a full fledged soulmate bond with Cody.

Anyways. Mace thinks he’s decided three things: he’s gotta (not wants to, but has to) get the senate to let them make an outpost in Mandalorian space so him and Obi can be with Obi’s new dad and family, he does NOT want to be a council member anymore because this is a fucking mess that’s gonna turn into a 6 day meeting for them, and yes, they need to go to the temple.

Anyways. Make Cody a small child and give him a knife is my solution to a lot of things actually.

[ashen-char]

never give you peace

ship: anora x igor

content: spoilers to anora (2024), references to canon violence and sex

summary: after vanya fucked off back to russia, igor moved to brighton beach. he has routine meet-ups checking in on ani. they get to some understanding

word count: 2200+

It's been a month since Vanya left. Ivan Zakharov, the oligarch's son, her husband. The irresponsible manchild that lavished her with just enough attention and gifts that she actually fell for his shit. A Vegas quickie wedding. A four carat diamond ring. Ani was on top of the world. But then his parents came to force them to annul the marriage and he ran, tail between his legs. Ani fought for them. Vanya didn't.

Their whirlwind romance was only really three weeks. But the Manhattan mansion, the Vegas penthouse... She didn't know him, not really. He didn't know her at all. His disjointed English, her loose grasp on Russian. She had naively thought she'd learn more about him in time. That they'd last. They were married after all. He wanted to stay in America just for her. Maybe those words meant nothing when Vanya never even said her real name. She was just Ani to him. Stripper.

She's back in her real life now. Shitty mattress, cold air from no working AC. Igor checks in on her from time to time. Ani made a lot of cash from selling the ring, from what Ivan paid her in the first place. Enough to keep afloat for a couple years. But she went back to old habits, went back to working for HQ. It was easier to pretend Vanya didn't happen. Didn't exist. Didn't shake up her world then leave like it was nothing. 

"I fuckin' told you, I'm good," Ani growls, rolling her eyes at Igor's slew of questions. "Do you have to ask a million more times?"

The serious-looking Russian man frowns. Sorta. Ani kinda hates the blank expression he usually sports, unaffected by her attitude or even smiling at it. He takes a sip from his coffee, black with no cream or sugar just how he liked it, which of course she called him "fucking weird" for.

They're in some hole in the wall café in Ani's neighbourhood, now Igor's as well. He has settled in well to Brighton Beach this past month, after he insisted on staying here so he doesn't burden his grandmother too much. He didn't tell her, but Anora bets it was just to make sure she's alright. 

"Sometimes you say you are good when you are not good," he says. His English still isn't the best, but there's less of an accent now. Of course, he could get by in Brighton Beach purely in Russian but he knows what Ani prefers. So with her, it's English. "But alright. I will leave it alone."

"Thank you," she says, widening her eyes and rolling them a little. But it's genuine enough, and both of them know it. Thank you for giving her space when she needs it, thank you for never giving too much space that she feels alone again. Whatever. Ugh, mushy.

Igor slides a plate of blini with jam and cream across to her. "You have not touched your breakfast," he chides gently. "Eat. You need to keep your strength." Igor watches her with those intense grey eyes, his brow furrowed slightly.

Anora nods, sipping her own coffee. Caramel frap, even in the cold weather. Her foot taps an anxious rhythm against the floor, acrylic fingernails clicking on the tabletop. The routine check-up with Igor is just that - routine at this point. She's used to his gentle concern, the way his brows knit together as he studies her face for signs of fatigue or distress. Still, his words nag at her. Keep strength? For what, exactly? Her days are boring now. She doesn't need to prepare for anything like the harrowing 48 hours after they met.

"I'm fine, dude. Really." Ani forces a smile, attempting to push down the ache in her chest. Vanya's absence is a dull throb, constant and unrelenting. Some days are worse than others. The nights are the hardest, when the loneliness creeps in and memories of silk sheets and games she didn't fucking care about but gave him so much joy flood her mind. Russian sable coats, but also the shitty takeaway noodles she'd feed him. 

And it's annoying, when Igor just stares at her. Hell, she knows she's lying but did this dude always have to read her? 

Ani picks at the blini to procrastinate admitting any hard truths, spreading a thin layer of jam before taking a small bite. She flashes Igor a 'see, I'm eating, happy?' look. He seems to accept it, because he focuses on his own breakfast. The sweetness bursts on her tongue, cloying and artificial. Her stomach churns. Ani sets down her fork with a soft clink.

"Alright, fuck, you got me. I haven't been eating much." Truth slips out without warning, the admission bitter on her tongue.

What even was the last meal she had before this? The strawberry jam is foreign, too much almost. Maybe it was the pizza her sister had slid through her door after Ani didn't get out of bed. Maybe the stupid eggs she burned because she was too zoned out.

"Eat lots now."

"Yeah, dude, I got it."

Ani sighs heavily, shoulders slumping. "I don't know how to do this, Igor. How to just... move on. Pretend like a literal marriage never happened." Her hands twist in her lap, knuckles white. "I feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes."

She knows Ivan isn't worth it, and maybe that's the worst part. He was never gonna be the man she wanted, had hoped tirelessly, that he'd be. He wouldn't have fought, wouldn't have talked to his parents, wouldn't have defended her. In the end, Ivan never wanted her. Just fun. That's what she liked about him, but it was also the reason they never would have lasted. Laying awake at night, salt streaming from her eyes into her ears, about him? The boy never washed a plate or did his laundry in his life. Never knew how to show love if it wasn't buying it, or even worse, the empty words. She feels so stupid, playing it all back, in hindsight seeing all the moments she should've realised.

"Why would you lose your mind?" he asks.

"I'm right where I was before I met him. And I feel like screaming all the time," Ani says. "I feel like a fucking idiot for hoping. As if fairytales happen to people like us."

He hums, a low and rumbling sound. Igor always listens to her. Which was unnerving at first, and sort of unbelievable considering when they met he was yelling at her to shut up and literally gagged her. (Toros gagged her, Igor would correct).

He holds his hand out and for a second Anora thinks he's offering to hold hers. But what Igor actually does is hand her his coffee. "You're too cold." He makes her hands let go of each other, bring them to clasp over the cup. His larger hands cover hers, helping her focus on the heat, on the sensation of the here and now instead of her swirling, self-pitying thoughts.

Igor looks at her like... God, Ani can't explain it. Can't bring herself to focus on it, to really think about and analyse the deepness of it, or why. What she can feel is that he doesn't have the answers either. That's comforting in its own way. He never leaves her alone, which has slowly gotten less creepy and more relieving. The heat seeps into her palms, grounding her. Igor's never failed to surprise her. He's always so in tune with her needs, even when she doesn't voice them herself. Especially when she doesn't voice them.

"You are Anora Mikheeva," he tells her, and she bites back the instinctive correction of 'Ani', "Have been a lot longer than Anora Zakharova."

The name sounds foreign and she supposes that's Igor's point. It stings, just like when he told her that he was glad that she wasn't in the family. Proves that she never really was, even if somehow Ivan wasn't a coward and hadn't run. His parents wouldn't have approved. Ani would eternally be the outsider, decked out in lavish clothes but still internally herself. Eventually made to be some trophy wife, little more than a pretty accessory to be paraded around and bragged about, but unable to fly on her own terms. Unable to be proud of her achievements, her dreams before meeting him. Only supporting Vanya as he worked in his father's company.

"I never changed my name, asshat," she retorts instead. Because it's always been easier to rebuff Igor's attempts than let him chisel away at her walls. They haven't exactly addressed what happened between them either. How Anora had ridden Igor until she melted in his embrace, finally breaking down into tears. She'd cried for an hour, then. He let her. She quickly looks away and sips his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste.

"You will live. Find normal. You are doing good."

"I'm trying," Ani murmurs. Find normal. What does normal even mean at this point? Her life has been anything but normal for as long as she can remember. Relying on her wits and her body, only making it work because she was fucking good at it. "I'm trying," she repeats, more firmly this time.

His hand goes to her knee, patting it.  It's embarrassing since men touch her pretty much every night, but it makes Anora jolt slightly. The casual touch sends a shiver down her spine, a reminder of... whatever that car tryst could be called. Almost intimacy? A shallow attempt to go back to her old life. She'd been desperate, lost, seeking solace and warmth and distraction in any form she could find it. And Igor had been there, steady and silent, letting her use him however she needed. It was alright until he tried to kiss her.

Ani swallows thickly, setting the mug down with a quiet clink. She doesn't like leaving words unsaid. Knows Igor's probably been worrying his stupid bald head over how hard she sobbed and broke down on him. 

"About, you know..." she starts hesitantly, words stumbling over themselves. "What we did. In the car. It was-"

Needful. Cathartic. A moment of weakness. None of those sound right.

"Unplanned," she settles on finally, meeting his gaze. "I didn't- I'm not-" Fluent in this, in the complicated tangle of feelings and expectations that come with intimacy. Sex for sex's sake? Sure. Beyond the transactional, beyond the professional? There's no place for that. Not in her life. "God, I dunno. Thanks for the ring, basically. Thanks for everything else."

And he says something so ridiculous it actually makes Ani un-tense her shoulders. "It's OK."

"OK? I fucking beat up your chest and crashed out on you."

Igor's mouth purses into a thin line. He chucks an ungodly amount of pancake into his mouth and her face screws up in judgement about how he just crams food in like he won't have it again. "What, you regret it?"

"No," Ani says quickly, the denial tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop it. "I don't regret it." She meets Igor's gaze head on, willing him to see the truth of her words. There's a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or cautious hope.

Ani shifts in her seat, suddenly restless. The memory of that afternoon burns bright in her mind. The weight of Igor's body beneath her, the drag of his skin against hers, the way he'd let her take control. Set the pace. Use him however she needed. It had been freeing, in a way. Empowering. To know that even in her lowest point, she still held some semblance of power. That she could take what she wanted, when she wanted it. What she couldn't take was that he wanted more. Pulled her face in.

"I'm not ready for anything," she says.

"I know."

Igor hadn't judged her for her tears, or the ragged edges of her emotions. He'd simply been there, solid and unwavering. A port in the storm of her... what? Grief? Loss?

"I'm a fucking terrible person."

Igor smiles for the first time during this whole routine meet-up. "I do not think so," he says.

"Even if I'm 'too fucking crazy'? Run my mouth?"

The memory is vivid in her mind—the shock of seeing Ivan's father's goons in the mansion, the panic that had risen in her chest. She'd lashed out, all claws and teeth and fury. Igor had taken it like a champ, never fighting back despite her best efforts to hurt him. Then he tied her up, that asshole.

He shrugs. "Makes things interesting." In a move Ani can't counter, he grabs her coffee instead, sipping the too-sweet caramel frap that doesn't suit him at all. "I like not handling you."

Even now, Anora feels a thrill of pride at how badly she'd mauled him. He's such a stand-up guy and she knows that now, but she'll never feel bad about defending herself. She can see the scar of that deep-ass bite on his neck still. "Is it alright if my new normal has you in it?" Ani asks. "You won't win any fights, I'll never admit when you're right."

"Done and done."

"I'm never gonna calm down, you know?" she tells him, like she almost wants him to turn this down. "What you see is what you get."

He fixes those eyes on her. "You are always wild. Why would I expect different?"

And it's funny. With Ivan, she was silently glued to him, whatever he wanted. Igor got her actual self, the one that talks shit with her friends and cusses out any small inconvenience.

"Toosh, dude."

[ginnsbaker]

A Form of Vengeance (Excerpt)

Summary: “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

Word count: 2.4k+ | Tags: Heavy Angst, Dubious Consent, Edging, Toxic Relationships, Oral and fingering (Wanda receiving)

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

A/N: This is basically an excerpt from Chapter 6 of In Losing Grip on Sinking Ships, just so you have an idea how extensive the edits are that's currently in progress for the final PDF version of ILGOSS.

--

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door. 

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers. 

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over the neighborhood.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the stench of alcohol that welcomes her first. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other. 

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?” 

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? 

When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned. 

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room. 

There’s nothing gentle in the way you tug down her shorts, letting them pool around her ankles and yank her shirt up, exposing the swell of her breasts to the cool room air.

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth. 

And Wanda loves it. 

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be. 

Every pulsation from her clit echoes the tempo of her racing heart. Your mouth, slick and fervent, descends onto her nipple, and your tongue drags languidly across in deliberate, lascivious strokes. The visual–the sheen of wetness, the very sensation of your mouth on her–makes her cheeks flame, and instinctively, her eyes drift away. But you're not about to let that happen.

Gripping her jaw firmly, you force her to witness what you’re doing to her. “Watch,” you demand, voice husky and heavy with desire. “Don't you dare look away.” 

Without breaking eye contact, you shift your attention, letting your drenched tongue lavish her other nipple, ensuring every inch of her feels that same overwhelming pleasure. Wanda's arousal pools beneath her, dampening the rug and every nerve ending draws her attention downwards, craving that much-needed release.

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her. 

As her fingers hesitantly make their way towards the fastening of your jeans, you're quick to intercept, pushing them away. With assertive hands, you grab hers, lifting and pinning them over her head, leaving her deliciously vulnerable.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. But now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects. 

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers. 

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

Yet, you seem lost in your own world, utterly intoxicated by the sight of your fingers disappearing inside your ex-wife's slick folds. Despite the initial discomfort, waves of pleasure soon drown out the pain, escalating with each thrust. Wanda's left clawing at the ground beneath her as your thumb starts circling her clit, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through her.

Your fingers shift inside her, seeking out the textured area that she's most sensitive to. Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing. 

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She squirms beneath you, nearly delirious from the mounting ecstasy, trying to trap your hand between her knees to still your movements. But you force her legs to stay splayed open, angling your fingers to continually target that particularly responsive spot inside her.

“Kiss me,” Wanda breathlessly begs, her words feathering over your damp forehead. But instead of meeting her lips, you trace your tongue along the shell of her ear, eliciting a shiver from her. Just as she seems to reach her peak, you pull back your fingers, halting all stimulation, leaving her teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

She groans in frustration, her chest heaving, eyes dark with need. “Why?” she manages to gasp out, her hips unconsciously seeking the lost contact.

You lean close, lips brushing her earlobe. “Because I can.”

Her breathing turns even more ragged. “Y/N,” she begins, but her plea is cut off as you slowly trail kisses down her body. Every inch you move feels like an eternity for her, every kiss you plant on her skin making her shiver and writhe beneath you. When you finally reach her core, you can see how her pussy clenches with desperate need.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you pull them apart gently but firmly, giving yourself a clear view of her glistening arousal. Without touching her, you take a moment to appreciate the sight, which elicits a whimper from her.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice low and dangerous, each word deliberate. “And you tell me this isn’t what you want?”

Your face inches closer to her, close enough for her to feel each exhale against her sensitive skin. She attempts to buck her hips upward, seeking your lips, but you force her down with a dominant hand, immobilizing her.

“Remember,” you whisper against her, causing her to twitch from the sensation, “You're not allowed to come... not until I say.”

This is it–your form of vengeance. But even in your cruelty, it's paradoxically centered around her pleasure.

She emits a sound that's halfway between a plea and a sob, her hands grasping the carpet for any semblance of control. “Please,” she manages to choke out, sounding more desperate than ever. You slide a finger up her slit, collecting her wetness, and then move it up to circle her clit, slowly and tantalizingly. “Hold it,” you challenge, locking eyes with her, pushing her to her very limits. “Hold it or you’ll never see me again.”

The threat almost sends her over the edge.

“I—I can't,” she stammers, tears forming in her eyes, both from the effort of holding back and the emotional weight of your words. But beneath that fear is a stubborn determination. She won't let herself fall, not when so much is at stake.

You smirk, leaning down, your breath teasing her skin. The sensation of it sends shivers down her spine, her body acutely aware of every point where your warm breath touches. You trace the softest of kisses on her inner thigh, watching her tense up in anticipation.

“Relax,” you murmur, voice dripping with false sweetness. “I'm just getting started.”

Her whimper is music to your ears, but she attempts to stifle it, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. You take your time, tracing lazy circles around her entrance with your tongue, but deliberately avoiding the place she wants you the most.

When you finally slide a finger into her, Wanda arches up, trying to chase the feeling, to get more. But you pin her hips down with your free hand, your fingers moving tantalizingly slow inside her. Her breath hitches as you curl them upwards, applying pressure to that sensitive spot.

Wanda's eyes screw shut, her moans spilling out uncontrollably now. Just as she's getting accustomed to the rhythm of your fingers, you press your tongue to her clit. Her entire body shudders, the dual assault threatening to push her over the precipice.

Her whimpers grow more frantic, “Please, Y/N... Please,” a broken mantra, pleading for mercy or release, perhaps even both. But you pull back just a fraction whenever she nears her climax, drinking in her desperation. You watch her intently, taking sadistic pleasure in every twitch, every moan, every teardrop that slips from her eyes. She's on a razor's edge, strung taut, teetering between madness and ecstasy.

She pants heavily, eyes darting around the room in pure desperation, her every nerve ending screaming for release. You can see it, the raw need in her eyes, and the way her body trembles uncontrollably. With an almost wicked grin, you dive back down between her thighs.

Her whole body tenses as your tongue works fervently against her swollen clit. Your fingers find their way back inside her, thrusting hard and fast, in sharp contrast to the tantalizing teasing you’d given her before.

“Y/N,” she moans out loudly, her voice breaking from the strain of holding back for so long. But you don’t give her any room to breathe; you press on, your motions frenzied and insistent.

“Come.”

And then, all at once, she shatters.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably, her warm essence splashing onto your chin. Her back arches off the floor, her fingers clawing at the carpet, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. 

You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions. 

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know,” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner? 

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for. 

Lies after lies, you think bitterly. 

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again,” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most. 

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

[gumnut-logic]

Cassandra

You asked for a sequel, you got one.

This is ship. Oh so much ship in such a small handful of words. If you don't like m/f romance, this isn't your fic. If you do, then good luck, because there are only 700-odd words and I might have sprained a writing muscle cos these words are...well, I'll let you form your own opinion.

Virgil Tracy/Cass McCready

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Soft lips on his forehead.

Fingers brushing gently through his hair.

A whisper. “Thank god for you, Tracy.”

Virgil pushed his heavy eyelids open and the white fuzz of the world bit into his retinas.

The fingers paused in his hair. Fingertips touched his cheek. “Tracy? You with me?”

His throat clogged with barbed tumbleweeds, but he managed to blink his eyes and force them to focus.

Cassandra.

She smiled at him and it lit up her eyes. “Hey.”

He loved her smile.

Her fingers brushed through his hair again as his brain finally booted and updated him on the fact he was in hospital.

And Jeremy had fallen through a window.

“Jer-“ The tumbleweeds clawed at his windpipe and he coughed, shaking what was apparently a body in pain underneath whatever he was high on.

She cupped his cheek. “Jeremy is fine. Thanks to you.”

“But-“

Another smile. “Scott did warn me.” She straightened and walked around the edge of the bed and disappeared beyond a blue curtain.

Scott? What?

The soft hiss of hoverjets and both Jeremy and Russell hurried into the room. “Virgil!”

Jeremy may not have had Gordon’s blond curls, but the five-year-old had more in common with his fish brother than Virgil did. The little rapscallion darted over and for a moment Virgil thought he was going to leap onto the bed.

“Gentle now, Jer, Virgil is injured.”

For a moment that energy in his eyes dulled. “He’s going to get better, though, isn’t he? Not like Russell?”

Cassandra stepped up between her two sons, a hand dropping to each shoulder, squeezing Jeremy’s. “Virgil will get better.” She leant over and kissed Russell’s tight curls. “And your brother is getting better at walking. He just needed the ‘chair today.”

Virgil blinked again, cursing the fog in his head.

The eight-year-old looked up at his mother. “It’s fine, Mum.”

Virgil swallowed. Russell was the eldest of the two boys, but he had suffered an injury in the fire that had taken the children’s father several years ago. Russell reminded him of John. All the smarts and the determination. Not so much for space, though. Russell wanted to build things.

“Thank you for saving me, Virgil.” Jeremy’s wide, dark eyes stared up at him from beside the bed.

He looked so much like his mother.

Virgil hacked through the bramble in his throat. “Y-You’re welcome.”

Little fingers intertwined with his.

Cassandra was smiling at him again.

“Okay, boys, go back to Gordon. I need to speak with Virgil.”

He loved it when she said his first name.

“Yes! Thunderbird Four rooooooocks!” Triumphant arm in the air, Jeremy dashed off, obviously none the worse for falling off a skyscraper.

Russell rolled his eyes and turned to follow his little brother. Hoverjets hissed out of the room.

Virgil found himself grinning.

“You know, I have my suspicions that you only asked me out because of my kids.”

His eyes widened and her smile became a laugh.

She leant in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I got a great deal.”

“Cass-!”

But then she was kissing him ever so softly and the fog became a pleasant haze.

He could have just existed there forever.

“Thank you for saving my son.”

He stared up into her dark, dark eyes. “Thank you.”

She smiled at him as if seeing something he was completely unaware of and loving it.

Loving…

“I need to let your brothers in before they break down the door.” She straightened up, still smiling softly.

A slow blink and she turned, disappearing beyond the curtain again.

“Cass…”

A clatter at the door and Alan burst in, almost as exuberant as Jeremy. John followed quietly with Grandma and Dad, questions about his health firing from all directions.

Virgil took the gentle hugs and the queries, but he was distracted by Cassandra stopping to speak to Scott at the door a moment before leaving.

He couldn’t see her face, but he could see his brother’s. Blue eyes flashed and he touched her shoulder briefly as she followed her boys out the door.

Virgil had all the questions, but as Scott turned towards him, his big brother only smiled.

Ever so proud.

-o-o-o-

[blacklegsanjiii]

im kind of imagining for revolutionary!sanji that maybe theres a moment in alabasta where luffy and ace say something that sabo always used to say, maybe an inside joke, and everyone is confused but sanji kind of unintentionally mutters "youre just like sabo" and their heads snap towards him. cue an intense and furious interrogation that sanji is trying to evade bc he thinks sabo maybe pissed them off during a mission and they have no clue how the fuck sanji knows their dead brother's name

maybe not canon to your au but a fixit alternative?

Oh my gosh..... Ace and Luffy pester Sanji until they find out who Sabo is.

Sanji who is just watching these two feral adults, one of which lit his cigarette with his fruit. He's mentioned offhandedly having a brother he doesn't get to see often. Probably only once like when he talks about being from the North Blue. Sanji can't talk about a lot of stuff just because of how high ranking he is the Revolutionary Army.

So he's watching them and all the dumb shit they're doing and is just like "you're both just like Sabo" under his breath and they whip around to look at him. He doesn't know Sabo is their dead brother and they didn't know another Sabo could exist in the world. When Luffy and Ace ask about him Sanji doesn't really answer.

Can't risk whatever Sabo is doing right now. They keep pestering him throughout Alabasta. After a while Sanji is like "he's my brother! Okay! I don't get to see him a lot!" And then Luffy rubbers his way into Sanji's pockets and finds a photo of him and Sabo in their early teens, Sabo who has a massive scar covering one of his eyes and going into his hairline. Ace and Luffy are just staring at it and crying because that's their brother and everyone is confused and Nami and Zoro are hitting Sanji because he didn't tell them!

"It's not my fault Sabo never mentioned them! And it's not Sabo's either because he doesn't have his memory from before showing up!" Sanji defends himself and Sabo and everyone is like "he's at Baratie?" And Sanji shrugs and says he doesn't know where Sabo is right now and he probably won't for a while. It's just how it is.

ALTERNATE MARINEFORD BELOW

Fuck it if this happens Sanji is like "Hey, we need to get to Marineford right now." To Sabo and Sabo is like "SWEET WE'RE FUCKING UP AN EXECUTION AND DRAGON DOESNT KNOW!"

Sanji and Sabo make it and Sanji is dressed in his Revolutionary best. Ace and Luffy are looking at these blond dumbass revolutionaries. And once Ace is free and Sanji and Sabo send them to the White Beard fleet Sanji and Sabo are grinning at these top Government officials like "haha dragon is going to be pissed" only for Ivankov to have them scruffed and hauled off too.

"I would expect better from our chief of staff and head of espionage! Honestly, what do these two have do with you two?" Ivankov demands as they gesture between the four of them and Sanji is like "well he's my Captain, he's my Captains brother, and they think the know Sabo from before times."

Ivankov is looking between them as Ace is reeling because he almost died, his pops did die, Luffy saved him, his other dead brother is alive and the cook is a revolutionary and so is his dead brother and they are high ranking? What the fuck? Also the before times?

And Ivankov is just leaning over them like "explain yourselves, we raised you better than this!" As Sabo and Sanji point out they were raised soldiers and Sabo doesn't remember anything before showing up on Baltigo when he woke up to Sanji staring at him. Koala grabs Sabo's pipe and nails both of the blonds with it and screams obscenities that belong in the void century.

Sabo is blinking at Sanji as blood is running down their faces then at Ace and Luffy. "If that's all it took to bring your memories back I'm going to hit you again." Koala threatens and Sabo fucking runs from her making her give chase and Ivankov is muttering to themself as Koala chases Sabo around the ship. And seeing an opportunity to make it worse Sanji is like "Koala, look at this!" As he lights his legs on fire.

Sabo throws Sanji into the ocean and Koala hits him with the pipe like a baseball sending Sabo flying after him. Ivankov can't believe this is head of espionage and the chief of staff. Ace and Luffy are crying their brother is alive but also very confused at the pipe weilding woman who just brained both Sanji and Sabo. She's kind of scary.

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Slight angst. Izzy's feelings are hurt, but he won't admit it unless you back him into a corner. He's mellowing out with you though.

Chapter Four - Just like before

♡♡♡

A lighthouse. With the use of items on the ship, and the participation of the crew, Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach turned the ship into a lighthouse. The Spanish turned around, believing they got lost in the fog.

The Revenge managed to escape.

You had to admit that was insanely clever of your captain.

Later that night, while the crew slept, you sat on the steps and looked up at the dark sky. Everyone was pretty much asleep, except for the captains you could hear chatting up in the nest.

The only person you couldn't see was Izzy.

You didn't want to disturb the sleeping crew by getting up to search for your old friend. You just hoped he was okay. Izzy wasn't one for showing how he felt about things, unless that feeling was anger or annoyance.

Come morning you are woken up strange sounds. You open your eyes and look around to find Izzy loading up a dingy with stuff. You sit up in confusion. He hasn't noticed you, too busy doing what he's doing.

"Izzy?" You call his name softly.

He doesn't stop.

You stand up and walk over to him, frowning. "Izzy..."

"I said some things I regret last night."

"Oh?" You come to stand beside him.

"Some shit to Blackbeard... I didn't mean any of it."

You glance up at the captains. Ed is looking down at you with a nod. You take a deep breath and turn back to Izzy.

"He knows you didn't mean them."

Izzy grabs at the rail of the ship.

"I bet he has a plan, you know. He always has a plan."

"Yeah..."

You sigh softly. "Izzy, can we talk?"

He inhales softly. "Guess so."

"I'm sorry you thought I was dead. I'll keep apologising if I have to. Whatever it takes to make it up to you. I never meant for that to happen. I got trapped onboard the ship that day. No one would have known because my dumbass decided to wander below deck on my own to see what I could find. It was stupid of me. Anyway, I jumped off deck the moment I could and I had every intention of coming back to you. I was too late."

Izzy clenched his fists.

"Izzy... It was never meant to be that way. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Whatever. Doesn't matter," he says. "You're here now."

You don't know if that's his way of saying he forgives you or what, but you'll take it. Izzy is complicated.

"Don't leave. Please."

You can hear his slight breathing as he thinks about it. His head then turns in your direction and you can see his eyes more clearly.

"He's still got it."

You smile. "Don't think it ever left. Our Blackbeard, eh?"

Izzy exhales a chuckle.

"Don't go, Izzy. I can't make it up to you if you leave..."

Izzy says nothing and you take that as your sign to leave him with his thoughts. Man needs time to think.

An hour later you realise the dingy is back on the boat and Izzy is still onboard.

You smile at the sight of him.

♡♡♡

Turns out there is a plan. Ed apparently had a talk with Izzy shortly after your talk with him. A ploy to kill off Blackbeard. Except, not really.

Stede is already wearing Blackbeard's clothes. Kill the man, say the great Blackbeard is dead, Ed gets to be Edward. Izzy would then proceed to be captain of his own crew.

It was definitely a plan.

In the meantime, Edward has told Stede he would show him what it meant to be a pirate. The first step was a raid. You laughed at the idea of taking Stede Bonnet onto a ship to loot.

Izzy had relaxed a little around you. Not enough for the crew of the Revenge to notice, bit enough for you to see. You look at him as Edward explains to Stede's crew the plan for the raid.

Izzy is looking at you. You fight back a smile. At least he's looking at you.

"Crew of Revenge, you are not to engage. You are simply here to observe how real pirates function in the real world." Izzy addresses the crew.

You hide your smile.

"Quick question, how violent do we expect this to get?" Stede asks.

Pretty violent was his answer.

It felt good to use your sword again. This was the life you were used to. This is how it always should be. You were to busy fighting to take an notice on if Izzy was watching you. After all, it was Izzy who taught you how to use a sword.

While the crew looted, you made your way over to Izzy's side.

"That was fun."

He sniffs, looking at the bodies on the deck. "Yeah, was a bit. Where's that pathetic excuse of a pirate gone?"

"Believe he's below deck looting. Ed went to find him."

Izzy nods his head and then looks at you. "You still got it."

You smile, not even pretending hearing that didn't make you happy. "Yeah. Can't ever forget everything you've taught me, Izzy."

He almost smiles.

"Hurry up and grab what you can."

"Aye, Mr Hands," you tease, leaving his side to go loot for yourself. Izzy follows you with his eyes, biting back another smile.

♡♡♡

"A party?" You ask, looking at Ed and Stede.

"Some posh gathering for rich folk. Frenchie found the invitation," Stede explains.

"And you want to go to it?" You look at your captain. Blackbeard shrugs. "He's gonna need a new outfit."

"Ah, leave that to me." Stede goes into his secret closet. You turn back to Ed.

"Is this part of the plan?" You ask.

"Yeah. Kinda. Just let me handle this, okay?"

"Yeah, course."

"So, you spoke to Izzy?" Ed asks, looking at you gently.

"Yeah. We spoke. He at least doesn't hate me any more."

"Ah, he never hated you."

"He did a little bit. Be honest, Ed." You say to him.

"He never hated you. Not really. It's just hard for him to be open."

You nod your head quietly. Stede returns with a purple suit in hand. You notice the ribbons on top of the pile. You took this as your sign to leave them to it.

♡♡♡

Up on deck you find Izzy lowering Lucius down the side of the ship. You raise an eyebrow in his direction.

"The fuck?"

Izzy glances up at you. "Got a little job for Spriggs. Caught him slacking."

"Barnacle duty? Oof." You peer down at where Lucius sits. "Shit job."

"Aye. Will teach him a bloody lesson." Izzy walks off. You send Lucius a sorry smile before following the brooding first mate.

"Anything you want me to do?"

"Whatever the fuck you like. I'm trying to get this crew onto shape," Izzy sighs.

"Will you at least look at me again?"

Izzy stops what he's doing and turns, looking at you. You smile at him. "That's better. Is our friendship healing?"

"Shut up."

You chuckle as he walks away.

♡♡♡

A little time passes when Izzy storms past you looking a little miffed. You watch him for a moment before following after him.

"Some thing happen?"

"That useless twat is gone," he huffs.

"Lucius?"

"Yes." Izzy hisses the word.

You follow him into the captain's cabin where you find Wee John watching Lucius sketch a naked Fang.

"What the fuck?"

"Not bad," you hum.

Izzy turns his head to look at you with narrowed eyes. You smile at him with a shrug.

"What?"

"Don't fucking look."

"I'm looking respectfully. Fang has nice form," you grin.

Fang smiles. "Aw, you're just saying that."

You turn back to him. "I mean every word, Fang."

Izzy sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Back to work, the lot of ya!"

♡♡♡

You follow Izzy once again up to the deck. He leans against the railing, his shoulders tense. He looks out to sea.

"Useless fucking bastards."

You come to stand beside him. "Cut them some slack. None of them have been a real pirate. They're used to their cosy little ship."

"Fuck the lot of them. How on the hell does this ship function when this lot can't even do their duties?"

You shrug lightly. "I don't know. Up until recently I was locked up in their brig."

Izzy lifts his head to look at you. "You were their prisoner."

"Yeah, it was dumb. All those years sailing with Blackbeard and I get caught by some pirate wannabe," you sigh.

"What happened to you? What have you been doing these past 6 years?" Izzy asks, facing you fully.

"Been on the move, moving from place to place. Stowed away a few times. Was hoping to come across you lot again, but I never found you. Looks like you found me though..."

Izzy is watching your face.

"I won't leave again. Not like that. I'm home again."

"Yeah..."

You exhale softly and look around the ship. "You been well?"

"Surviving."

"Good." You look back at him. "I missed that face of yours."

"This ugly mug?"

"Shut up. Not ugly."

He scoffs and turns back to the sea. "Let's hope Blackbeard kills Bonnet soon so we can go back to business."

"Just give him time."

A few moment of silence pass before Izzy looks back up at you. You look back at him softly, expecting him to say something, but he doesn't. He walks away.

♡♡♡

Night draws in. Izzy stands in front of Lucius giving him a list of chores to do to make up for slacking, twice. You sit on the steps listening, whittling away.

"You're gonna swab the deck. Twice. Then patch the main sail, oil and renwick cannons, then stack the munitions. And by the time you've done all that I'll have several more chores for you."

"And what if I don't?" Lucius asks. You eyes him carefully. "You're not my captain."

"I could spill your beans." Izzy threatens. "You've been a proper little seductress, haven't you? Black Pete, Fang. Who else is there?"

Lucius grins. "Hey, Pete?"

"Yeah, love?"

"I drew Fang naked."

"Haha! Nice. He's drawn most of us," Pete tells Izzy.

"See? We don't own each other. Dizzy Izzy." Lucius looks him in the eye. "Or is it... Izzy the Spewer?"

You look at Izzy, knowing about that nickname. You were the day Ed left Izzy in charge and the storm happened. Izzy had a rough time.

"Go now," Izzy whispers.

"Have you ever been sketched?" Lucius asks.

"Fuck off." Izzy storms off. You watch him go.

Lucius looks up at you with a smile. "You fond of Dizzy Izzy?" He asks you.

"It's just Izzy."

Black Pete and Lucius share a look. "That a yes then?"

"Don't you two have things to do?"

"Only each other," Lucius winks at Pete.

You get up from the stairs, but Lucius speaks before you her very far. "I think if he got laid he'd loosen up a little."

You glare at Lucius. "Excuse me?"

"Just saying, Izzy hasn't yelled at you or given you jobs to do. I think he may have even been a little jealous earlier when you walked in on me sketching Fang."

"What are you implying?"

"I think you know."

You glare at him again. "Shut up." You walk away. Lucius and Pete laugh together.

♡♡♡

You sit below deck on the hard floor whittling away in silence. The rest of the crew were above deck, most of them slept under the stars. Izzy, you were pretty sure, was in his cabin.

You move the knife swiftly along the wood.

"It's late."

You look up at the sound of the familiar voice. Izzy's voice is very distinct. You like hearing him talk.

"I know."

"The crew is sleeping. Ed is back too."

"Oh yeah, the party."

Izzy stands there with a hand on top of his sword, resting at his hip. He keeps his eyes on you as you whittle.

"What are you making?"

"Just... a thing."

"Right... a thing."

Silence settles between you both again. You can feel his eyes on you. His breathing is soft, but you can hear the wood creak under his feet as he shifts.

"I... uh... I'm glad you're back."

You stop whittling.

"I mis- I missed you."

You look up at Izzy slowly. Your heart thumping quickly in your chest. You know better than anyone what that took for him to say that.

"Missed you too, Izzy."

He inhales sharply and nods.

"Right. Yeah. Night then."

"Goodnight." You watch him as he turns sharply and walks away. He always walks away.

You focus back on your project. The sound of the knife scraping along the wood filling your ears once more.

♡♡♡

Izzy wakes up with the sun. He groans as he stares up at the ceiling. Another day on this stupid ship with Stede Bonnet. Izzy can only hope Blackbeard kills the fucker soon.

He runs his fingers through his hair, keeping his hand there as his mind fills with thoughts. You spent a good portion of yesterday following him around the ship.

Izzy breathes through his nose and lowers his hand. He turns his head to the side only to find a strange object sitting on the table. He furrows his brow knowing that it wasn't there when he went to sleep last night.

The first mate sits up and reaches over to pick up the wooden bird. He holds it in his hand, turning it this way and that way.

"The fuck?"

It looked like it resembled a sparrow. He runs his thumb across the carved out wing. It was a decent job.

"Hm." The corner of his lip twitches. You. Silly little you with your silly little whittling last night.

He goes to put the bird down only to find a note resting where the bird had been. He gently places the sparrow down and picks up the note, turning it over to read it.

'A gift as part of my ongoing apology for leaving you 6 years ago. Nice to be back, just like old times.'

Izzy smiles slightly at the note and then puts it down, glancing at the bird again.

"Yeah. Glad to have you back."

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 -

[elijahs-dumps]

HUSKERDUST IS AMAZING!!! ... sort of

Okay, so, Hazbin Hotel. Obviously HUGE SPOILER WARNING ahead, but this show was fantastic! I've been a fan of Vivziepop's work for a while now, and even though I don't really enjoy Helluva Boss, I was really looking forward to Hazbin for many years. However, just because you really enjoyed something doesn't mean you can't acknowledge its flaws. And in a show with as many pacing issues as Hazbin, where do you even begin? Well, my personal main issue with the show was Huskerdust. Not because the ship isn't likeable, it's simply because most of what I didn't like about the show can link back to these two characters and their dynamic. So I guess I'm using them as my Trojan's horse in a way!

Huskerdust, which is the ship name between Husk and Angel Dust, is one of the main romances within Hazbin Hotel. Vivzie told us it would be a slow burn pretty early on, but honestly I think this ship is one of the fastest slow burns known to man. I mean, they had a cutesy little duet where they danced together in the fourth episode! This is tied to an underlying issue with the show's pacing all together. If Hazbin had more episodes like it should've, I think this "slow burn" concept would've worked better. Considering the fact we only had episodes, and the two characters still haven't really "confessed" or kissed yet, I suppose you could call it whatever you want to really.

The two characters and their dynamic is set up very early on, even in the pilot. It'll usually go something like, Angel will target Husk because he's the only one Angel can get a reaction out of in the hotel. Angel will do anything from making an innuendo, to literally sexually harassing Husk. And naturally, Husk will get frustrated because Angel is pushing his boundaries. Do I think it's weird that a show which talks about SA still uses sexual harassment as the butt of its jokes? Yeah, I think it's super weird and a little insensitive. But it's not my place to comment on such matters because I'm not properly educated, so I'm just gonna brush over it for now. It just makes this ship a little tough to swallow for me, considering Angel's blatant disregard for Husk's feelings.

However, even though Husk is the only one Angel can toy with at the hotel, Husk is also the only one who "sees through" Angel and the fake persona he uses as a means to cope and protect himself. This creates conflict, because Husk will call Angel out when Angel pushes his buttons, and Angel will get defensive and lash out. We see this in episode four; Masquerade. After a bad "shoot" with Valentino, Angel comes back to the hotel and gets into an argument with Husk which causes him to storm out. Charlie and Vaggie send Husk after him, and Husk finds Angel at a dive bar of some kind (I think).

Before we continue with Huskerdust, I've got something major I need to get off my chest about this episode. If Charlie is so "madly powerful' like Lucifer, and she knows Angel is being mistreated by Val, why can't she free Angel from his contract? Or at least try to talk to Angel about his situation after this episode? Maybe she did, and we just didn't see it because of the five-month-long time skip (which is another problem with this show's pacing), or maybe soul contracts work outside of angelic power. But I feel like it would've been nice if they told us that Charlie tried to help Angel more, just for my own peace of mind. Because to me, I just felt like Husk and Charlie brushed off the reality of Angel's situation very easily, regardless of that the fact that they're in Hell or not. I get that shitty things probably happen in Hell all the time, but c'mon!

Speaking of Charlie, this show does an awful lot of telling when it comes to Charlie's issues and not a lot of showing, Her "daddy issues" are one example of this, but right now I'm talking about how the characters often mention that Charlie solves everyone's problems to avoid her own. I thought this could be a interesting character flaw in hindsight, because wanting to solve everyone's problems for them can lead to a lot of boundaries being pushed, and character conflict arising. I was a bit surprised when Charlie immediately left the studio after Angel yelled at her, and seemed to handle is extremely maturely. She even goes as far as to blame what happened on herself when it was clearly Valentino's fault. While I think it's cool that Charlie handled everything so well, I also would've liked to see her struggle with this a little more. I think the concept of Charlie not knowing when to back off could be a good opportunity for some actual growth from her, instead of her development or growth just being explained to us every episode. Unfortunately though, Hazbin clearly didn't have the time for this kind of character work because the show is so plot heavy.

Back to the ship, once Husk finds Angel the two sing a song called Loser, Baby. Which is basically Husk trying to cheer Angel up and get him to stop self-loathing so much. I'll get a little personal for a minute and say if I was Angel this would not have worked on me at all. While I do think Angel has some self-hatred problems, his issues clearly run so much deeper than that. However, this was obviously just the first step in Angel's long road to healing I suppose, considering he only opened up to Husk so much. That being said, it's not like we even get to see Angel heal or develop further because of the time skip. Something else that rubbed me the wrong way with this whole scene was how Husk tried to relate to Angel by speaking about his own experience with Alastor. We find out that Husk used to be an Overlord, and that he lost his soul to Alastor in some kind of bet or card game. Alastor is one of our main characters, and they really put him up side by side with Valentino, out of the blue like that, like... Let's all think logically for a minute. This, combined with that one scene from episode five, made me like Alastor a little less. I understand that Alastor is sick and twisted, he's completely and undeniably evil. But seeing how his actions directly affect another member of our main cast was really off putting, and it put such a huge damper on this "found family" energy that Hazbin Hotel was clearly was aiming for.

Oh, and remember when I mentioned Valentino? Yeah, he's not safe either. I didn't even think twice about this character until one of my friends told me Val was their favorite character. It made me look back on all his scenes, and I realized something. He's actually really funny, and pretty entertaining to watch. Even the way he talks about Angel Dust when Angel Dust isn't present is played for the laughs. If anything, the way Val acted in episode four was a complete 180 from episode two. I thought this was a questionable writing choice, I'll be honest. Why would you purposefully write this character to be almost likeable to a certain extent, only to have him commit inexcusable crimes in the next episode. Look, if you're a Valentino fan, good for you. I'm not going to tell anyone not to like a certain character, because that's just not fair. I just personally disagree with the way Val was written. I think trying to paint Val as if he's just like every other character on this show whenever he's not actively abusing Angel really diminishes Angel's suffering from a viewer perspective.

I also feel like episode four kind of dug it's own grave in a sense, regardless of anything I've said so far. Because this episode is entirely about Angel Dust, he obviously gains development and growth from it. And in a show like Hazbin, with poor pacing and not enough time to flesh out characters, Angel's current development now sets him apart from anybody else in the entire series. Now even Charlie, the main character, seems one dimensional when compared to Angel Dust.

Circling back to Huskerdust again, I should probably acknowledge that Husk and Angel never even got another real one-on-one interaction after this episode for the rest of the show! Except for a really small one in episode six. But they literally exchange like three sentences, and about four or five months have passed between episode four and six, so do with that what you will. Not to mention, Husk refers to Angel as “kid” in one of these sentences. While I do think the age gap between Angel and Husk is strange, I feel like it’s easily defendable. I’m sure once Husk and Angel actually become a couple, Husk will stop calling Angel a kid. And we all know Angel isn’t a legal minor by any means. I don’t think it was necessary for the story though, and the two easily could’ve been made closer in age so this ship wouldn’t seem as… peculiar. Let's also remind ourselves that Huskerdust somehow has more substance than the main pre-existing couple. Yet again, this is just a side effect of "too much to do, not enough time to do it". But we will save the Chaggie discussion for another day...

So, do any of these things make Huskerdust bad? No, not in my opinion, at least. I'm still rooting for this ship no matter what, and I will personally be storming Prime Video HQ if they don't become canon next season. I think all ships and shows have their own problems, and for whatever reason the problems within Hazbin Hotel stood out to me more than I was expecting. Still, I did enjoy this show a lot. I might even do another post about it soon. And I'll definitely be counting down the days until season two drops!

[liu-anhuaming]

Reading Chinese Ebooks on 讀墨 ReadMoo

For the past few years, I've labored under the assumption that I can't read Chinese ebooks because I just can't focus on them. However, I recently saw someone on insta mention the app 讀墨. I was intrigued, and decided to give it a try. And wow, what a shock, I can in fact read Chinese ebooks! I just have to change it to vertical text and make the font very large.

So the past couple weeks I've been trying to read more consistently using 讀墨. The book I started with was slow going at first, which almost made me give up; it was the Chinese translation of The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera. This book really wasn't for me, and I didn't want to keep reading it. So instead of just giving up, I bought one more book and tried again: 《你的孩子不是你的孩子》 by 吳曉樂 (yes, it is the basis for the Netflix show of the same name).

I devoured the book in under a week. So yeah, I think Chinese ebooks work for me if I like the book.

Below is gonna be an overview of the app, and my thoughts on it so far. It's not comprehensive though, since there's a lot of things on this app I haven't explored yet (like the audiobooks).

***Please note that 讀墨 is a Taiwanese app, and as such it mainly offers books written in traditional characters. There are apparently books written in simplified available, but I haven't explored those since I'm fine reading traditional.***

Buying Books

Buying books is fairly simple. You make an in-app purchase of coins, which you then use to buy books. Note: As of writing this, I have recently recently received a notification from the app that their book purchasing system will be changing soon. Instead of being able to buy the books in the app, you'll have to log in to your account in a browser and buy the books there. The books will apparently then appear on the app for you to read.

As it stands, 210 coins costs $10.99, and the books I've bought have ranged in price from 210 to about 300 coins. That means the books cost ~$11-$16, just like a regular book. This could be pricey, but since I'd otherwise be paying for international shipping if I were buying a physical copy, this feels like a bargain to me. (For me, shipping books from Taiwan/China to the US typically doubles the price of the purchase rip)

Once you buy the book, it's in your library for you to start whenever you please.

As for browsing for books, I haven't gone too in-depth yet. I went in to 讀墨 with a TBR and went for books off that list exclusively. When it comes to buying books online, I almost always go on whatever site I'm buying from with a list of the books I'm thinking of buying. I get recommendations elsewhere (e.g., Goodreads or insta).

Reading Books

The 讀墨 reading interface is pretty typical for an e-reader app. What makes me like it way better than other apps I've used is that it has a lot more customization options.

For starters, you've got 6 options for page/text color. There's the typical black, white, and sepia, but there's also blue and green! I use the 奶綠 option, since I don't like having such a stark contrast between the text and the background when reading on my phone for long periods.

Then there's the options for changing the text size and spacing. You can make it bigger or smaller as you please, and put more or less space between each line of text.

You can also change the font. There's 8 different fonts you can choose from, including the default. There's even a font that puts 注音 next to each character! You can see a preview of that one in the photo below.

And then, there's the option to switch between horizontal and vertical text. The default is horizontal text, but I've come to prefer vertical when reading Chinese novels. If you go to your settings on your profile, you can make vertical text your default, which is what I ended up doing.

Like any good e-reader, there's options to highlight text. There's four different colors you can use (pink, yellow, purple, and blue). If you go the ToC, you can find all of your highlights and filter by color of highlight. Super convenient, since I've been using pink to highlight words/phrases I don't know or find interesting and yellow to highlight key sentences/paragraphs.

Aside from highlighting, when you select text you have the option to look the characters up in a dictionary or online. I've been getting a lot of errors with this recently, but I'm wondering if that's just my phone acting weird? It worked perfectly fine when I first started using the app. Anyways, the dictionary it takes you to is 夢典 MoeDict and it opens in a browser. This personally is a bit annoying bc I actually have this dictionary app installed on my phone, but this is a minor complaint. The dictionary opening in a new browser tab is a non-issue.

Reading Stats

Now, I'm a big dork and love to track my reading stats. To my great satisfaction, 讀墨 keeps track of some stats. The main one is time spent reading. You can set a daily goal (the minimum is 20 minutes), and if you reach it you get a nice checkmark on the calendar. The calendar doesn't update until the very end of each day, so if you've reached your goal for the day it won't show on the calendar until the next day.

Also, keep in mind time differences between where you live and Taiwan. I'm ~12 hours behind Taiwan, so the app doesn't start a new day until around noon for me.

Below the calendar, there's a chart that shows your total reading times for a week, month, or year. I normally can't be bothered to time my reading (especially not when I'm reading physical books) so this is cool to see. I think when it comes to reading in Chinese, being timed is more interesting because I'm able to more clearly gauge progress.

And below all that, there's a breakdown of the genres you read. I don't pay much attention to genre when choosing books, so I don't find this one quite as interesting.

(tfw you're reading a non-fiction book about a tutor so your main genre becomes 教育)

Overall Thoughts

So yeah, I've enjoyed myself so far. Aside from the reading interface, I find the app pretty easy to navigate. I spent a bit of time just clicking around and was able to figure out what's what pretty quick.

Like I said, this isn't a comprehensive review, but I'd recommend giving the app a try if you're willing/able to put down money for ebooks and are able to read traditional. It feels worth the money for me, since the interface is pretty customizable and easy to use.

If you're wondering where to find simplified ebooks, idk. This is my first real foray into Chinese ebooks, so I don't really know where to find them for simplified or traditional. I have heard that it is a little easier to pirate Chinese ebooks since their copyright laws are a little different than ours in the US?