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vettelsvee · 5 days

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EACH OTHER BEST KEPT SECRET | Sebastian Vettel

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sebastian vettel x carlos gf!reader

summary: seb's is feeling like shit and the only thing that will make him feel better is having a one night stand with carlos sainz's girlfriend

word count: 4328

warnings: cheating, y/n is carlos sainz's gf and seb is married to hanna (pls do not cheat to your partners!). smut (oral, both female and male receiving; fingering, p in v). curse words. slight degradation. narrated on seb's pov. use of y/n y/l/n.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback as well as comment and reblogs are truly appreciated! <3

Mick was by my side with a drink in his hand. He was constantly smiling despite getting a worse result, which only made me feel worse. I had dragged myself here so as not to look bad, and all I felt was that I was letting him down and had become more of a burden to him.

How could I enjoy this crappy party when all I wanted was this season to end when it just started?

"Do you really think bringing me here would help me?" I asked him as I waited for the seventh drink I thought I had taken. "I'm not in the mood, and I'm too old for this."

"I know you're not feeling well, Seb, but you need to disconnect a bit. Trust me, you will feel better.”

I reluctantly agreed.

I tried to smile at everyone who greeted or simply looked at me. I even tried to mingle among the bodies swaying back and forth, as drunk as I was, but it was impossible.

I was disappointed with myself. From being a threat on the track to seeming like a rookie.

"You don't look like a rookie, Seb. At least, not like me."

The voice of the recent Haas addition snapped me out of my thoughts. Had I said that out loud?

"Remember why you started all this, Seb," the boy continued. "The passion you have is still there. What's different are the results you're getting."

"Did I speak out loud?"

"This is the definitive sign for me to realize you’ve had enough alcohol today,” he pointed at my glass, filled to the brim with gin and tonic. "That's the last drink you're having. I don't want to drag you to your room. What would Hanna say if she saw you like this?"

She'd probably want me to have a good time, for sure.

"That I should stop drinking, or what?" I replied to Schumacher.

"Exactly. Don't let the pressure collapse you, Seb. You don't deserve that."

After talking a bit more about the disastrous first race of the year that we both had, Mick dragged me to the center of the dance floor. I refused several times at first, insisting that I wasn't one to let loose in front of others, but the boy was so enthusiastic, and I was so wasted, that I decided to go along with him and the atmosphere.

I moved not as timidly as I expected to the rhythm of the music, setting aside my worries and, above all, starting to care less and less about what would happen from now on with every drop of alcohol I ingested.

I noticed how suddenly Mick stopped. His gaze was fixed on a girl who passed next to us and who, undoubtedly, looked quite attractive, at least that's what the blond's looks confirmed. I also stopped my body's dance and turned to her, but it was quite difficult to recognize who she was among the crowd. Her dark green sequined dress and her raven hair, falling in waves over her back, were, at that moment, the only things that seemed to stand out from her in the dimness of the nightclub.

Who the hell was the girl who seemed to have caught my eye?

"Seb, are you coming?"

Mick's shouts over the music briefly made my eyes divert to him, then quickly return my attention to the stranger. She was now moving quite sensually with who knows who, somehow making me, Sebastian Vettel, married and a father, start to get excited.

"You go ahead, Mick. I'd rather stay here for a while."

My answer, barely audible, was a complete lie.

Of course, I wanted to go with him. What I didn't want was to once again succumb to temptation as I did with Astrid a few years ago.

"Wait, Mick!" I shouted, approaching the boy enough to grab him by the bottom of his shirt and pull him back to me. "Who is she?"

"Don't you know her? Seriously?"

I denied it too many times for him not to understand.

Did he really think that if I knew who she was, I would be asking him?

Mick, with a mischievous smile, finally understood that I was more confused than I would like.

"It's Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. An influencer. She makes TikTok videos and all that stuff," the blond whispered in my ear. "She's also Carlos's girlfriend, in case you're interested to know."

I tried to remember, but the drunkenness prevented me from recalling any kind of connection or image of that girl. Y/N Y/L/N, Carlos's girlfriend... Sainz? Of course, it had to be Sainz, there was no other Carlos on the grid... that I knew of.

"Oh, yeah, of course," I lied. The last thing I wanted was to admit that right now I didn't remember anything about that girl. "Carlos Sainz dad or son?" I added, then laughed.

Mick looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Clearly, my last comment didn't amuse him.

"You seriously don't remember her?"

"Well, I talk to too many people throughout the day, and I have more important things on my mind than that girl whose dress gives her a perfect ass, you know?" I tried to excuse myself.

"If you don't know her, as you say... Why don't you go and say hello? It never hurts to socialize, and maybe it'll help you forget all the birds you have flying around in your head," the boy insisted, ignoring my previous comments.

I felt a mix of shyness and concern invading me. If I approached the supposed girlfriend of Sainz, not only was I letting down my wife, but also a colleague. I didn't know who could be around here or what might happen if we were seen talking.

I was sure that if I approached her, there were two options: either I made her uncomfortable, or everything was misinterpreted, and we both got into trouble unintentionally.

"I don't want to overwhelm her, Mick," I replied. Right now, I couldn't think of coherent excuses, but any seemed good to me. "What would I say? 'Hello, Sebastian, how are you?' Come on Mick, we're not kids anymore."

Mick crossed his arms. His eyes revealed amusement, and there was no doubt he was enjoying this.

"Seb, you're at a party. Talking is what you do at a party, not talking about cars all the time, that's what briefings are for."

"But..."

"Stop being silly. Go and say hello. You'll see she doesn't bite."

I loved Mick Schumacher like a son and like a little brother, but moments like this were when we seemed like teenage brothers fighting over control of a video game.

"Fine, I'll go say hello," I finally relented.

"You won't regret it, you'll see."

I was sure I would regret it.

I was drunk, and I could barely remember my own name.

I wasn't sober, and I knew I was about to make another mistake, one I didn't know if I would regret as soon as I woke up.

I was Sebastian Vettel, and, of course, adrenaline and the forbidden attracted me.

I had done it once before, and everything had stayed between Astrid and me, so... why not do it again for a second time, and let everything stay between Y/N and me?

"This place is too packed."

Y/N turned around, our chests almost touching. I immediately lowered my gaze, and it was difficult for me to look away from her cleavage, quite revealing.

"I hope it is not full of idiots like you, Vettel. My face is up here, not between my tits."

Shit.

"Sorry," I said, rushing. Did I really have to screw it up now?

"Do you need something, Vettel?"

"Do you want to go out for some fresh air?" I asked without even thinking. "The music is too loud, so it's going to be hard for me to hear you."

Y/N seemed to consider it for a moment. Her expression betrayed indecision and, at the same time, I would dare say curiosity. After a brief silence that felt like an eternity, and where I was praying that she saw me with the same eyes as I saw her, she agreed.

We walked outside, she in front of me and me acting as if I were doing something completely normal. I sat on some steps far enough away so no one could see us; to my surprise, she sat next to me closer than I expected.

"Well, Vettel, what's the reason for wanting to talk to me so badly?" the young woman demanded to know.

I'd like to tell her that I'd like to fuck her tonight, but that wouldn't be very polite of me.

"Well... I don't know. I saw you and I said, 'Oh, it's Y/N, Carlos's girlfriend,'" I emphasized the last part to see if she reacted. There was no reaction on her part, so I counted it as a win. "I wanted to say hi."

"Did your nerves also wanted to say hi?"

I said nothing.

"From the little we've talked you seem like a nice guy, Sebastian," she continued speaking, calling me by my name for the first time. "But today it seems like you're especially quite interested in talking to me. Do you have something else to tell me, or is it just a feeling I have right now because I've been drinking?"

"Maybe."

I tried to keep my composure, but her getting even closer to me, and starting to caress me in a way that sent shivers down my spine, and leaving her hand on my thigh, too close to my member, made all the hair on my body stand on end.

She smiled, and then I knew I had achieved my goal.

"Why don't we go somewhere more private, Seb?" she whispered in my ear. Her index finger traced my arm, while her right hand began to undo a few buttons on my shirt. "It would be great if we continued this conversation without any chance of being interrupted."

"Do you think you're going to talk a lot tonight? The only thing coming out of your mouth is going to be you moaning my name, Y/N."

"Are you sure you're going to get what you might want, Mr. Vettel?"

God. I didn't expect her to play along, but now I was sure I was going to need more of that.

"Sure, as long as Carlos doesn't find out," I said, deep down, with concern.

"Well then, let's get out of here then, as long as Hanna doesn't find out..."

She nodded with a playful smile, and immediately, I forced myself to get up and find a taxi.

Of the thousands that seemed to be around, I decided to stop the only one that was moving towards us. When it stopped in front of us, I opened one of the back doors for Y/N and settled in next to her, putting on my sunglasses to avoid being recognized.

"To the Grove Hotel, please."

No need to say anything else because, in an instant, the driver set off.

As the vehicle moved through the night streets of Bahrain, Y/N and I seemed to become one. Her hands grabbed the collar of my shirt and she pressed her lips against mine. Even knowing that we were taking a risk, I decided to undo her seatbelt to position her on top of me, where I had much greater access to her entire body. The kisses became faster, more aggressive, and I felt my erection growing at a dizzying speed.

"Is your friend happy to see me, Sebastian?" the girl asked, rubbing herself slowly and torturously against my bulge.

"You'll see him as soon as we get to my room."

I couldn't say much more because my hands acted for me, grabbing her neck and starting to bite it, sucking, and surely leaving a few marks that I didn't give a shit if they showed. Her moans grew louder and louder, begging me for more.

We were lucky that our journey had ended because I was more than convinced that if we had continued like that, I would have fucked her right there.

We got out quickly, trying to act as if nothing had happened, but once we were in the elevator we acted the same way again. Torturing each other seemed to have become the main game of the night, caring less and less about being discovered. The forbidden seemed to excite us more, and I didn't blame the Spanish woman: after all, it was me who had started everything.

When we reached the door of my room I forced myself to stop kissing her. Y/N, however, stood behind me on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around my neck. I turned around and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me and searching her eyes to see if she wanted the same thing I did at that moment.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked in a soft, husky voice.

She nodded, and with a movement that seemed memorized, I swiped the card through the reader, opened the door, and forced her to step inside.

Once I made sure I had locked the door, I knew everything was done.

She wearing only her black lace underwear, threw herself into my arms to continue what she had been doing on our way here. I lifted her astride me, her legs around my waist, and leaned her back against the wall, continuing to kiss her fiercely while she finished unbuttoning my shirt, throwing it somewhere as soon as she finished her task.

"Y/N..."

"You're horny, aren't you, Sebastian?"

"If you know I am why the fuck do you ask?"

My reluctant comment made the young woman hit my ches. I knew she wanted to go down, so I let her down and, as soon as her feet touched the carpeted surface, she got on her knees and started to unfasten my belt, then the button of my pants before pulling them down.

She left a trail of kisses on the lower part of my stomach and on the beginning of my groin, playing at the same time with the elastic of my boxers and my member.

"Let's see what we have here..."

She pulled down my underwear in one swift motion, leaving my cock, fully erect, exposed.

Her right hand wrapped around it in an instant, moving it up and down too slowly for my liking. I began to sigh, but I refused to beg her to speed up, hoping she would realize it herself. Soon enough, her tongue started to lick my tip, and pre-cum appeared as if out of nowhere; before I knew it, she was sucking on it like a child with a lollipop.

"You look so good like this, Y/N. I know that having another man's cock in your mouth, not your boyfriend's, turns you on more than you might want to admit. You must be fucking wet..."

I couldn't say anything else, but my moans seemed to say it all. My hands were on her head, indirectly urging her to go faster because I was getting closer and closer to what I hoped would be the first orgasm of the night. She listened to me: at least that's what she seemed to understand when a much greater sense of pleasure invaded me as her tongue began to make circular movements on my glans while she continued to suck without stopping and masturbate the part that wouldn't fit.

I came in her mouth without warning, and she swallowed everything without a word, moving her tongue over her lips to finish taking the remnants.

She got up and the only thing I could do, almost powerless, was throw her onto the bed and position myself on top of her to undress her and finally make her mine.

After unhooking her bra and being just about to start taking care of her lower part, my cell phone began to ring.

"Damn it..."

"Pick it up, daddy," she demanded. "We don't want anyone to find out about our secret, do we?"

Having her beneath me, teasing me as if she were an innocent schoolgirl, when all she was doing was provoking me even more, got me even hornier.

I picked up the phone and saw who the call was from.

Hanna.

"It's my wife," was all I could say. The annoying ringtone kept on, but I didn't dare to answer the call.

"Why aren't you answering?"

"I'm with you, darling. Let it wait."

"What if we do something better?"

The girl sat up a bit on the bed and moved to the edge of it. The call seemed to be continuing, and my unease grew. Did Hanna imagine what I was doing right now, like this, with Y/N? Did she even consider the possibility that I might be unfaithful?

"Sebastian," the girl spoke again, "eat me while you talk to your wife."

"What?"

"Don't you want to play?" she asked. Again, that playful tone that turned me on so much came from her lips. "Well, let's play, but let’s do it my way."

I hated being challenged, and it seemed she knew it perfectly well.

Great. Did she want to play? Well, she was going to get it.

I got on my knees, still holding the phone in my hand. Hanna had already hung up, but that didn't mean I couldn't do things properly.

I selected her contact and put the call on speaker, leaving the device on the bed. I grabbed Y/N by her thighs and dragged her a bit further onto the surface, aligning her pussy perfectly with my face.

I yanked her panties off and the girl let out a surprised scream that coincided with my wife answering the call.

"Seb, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

And indeed, something was wrong, but Hanna Vettel wasn't aware of it, nor could she be.

"Yes, yes..." I replied as calmly as I could while I began to play with a finger between the girl's folds, spreading her wetness all over her pussy to lubricate her well. "It's just that I had to come to the bathroom because it was too noisy, and,you know how people are... having sex in stalls where barely one person fits."

Taking advantage of the fact that now it was my wife's turn to talk, I began to entertain myself with the girl's clitoris, who was ending her moans by putting a hand over her mouth.

"Do you remember when we used to do it?" my wife exclaimed excitedly. "We should do it again next time I come to see you."

"Damn it, Seb!"

"Honey, did I hear someone say your name, or am I just imagining things? Please tell me I'm not going crazy."

Shit. Sticking two fingers inside Y/N without warning hadn't been a good idea.

"No, no, no! There's another guy here named Sebastian. He met a girl named... Y/N, and look, now he must be doing something good to her for the girl to have screamed," I lied the best I could.

"And you're doing it really well," Y/N whispered so that only I could hear. "No wonder Hanna wants to do it with you in some disco bathroom. Who wouldn't fuck you anywhere?"

I took the opportunity to spread her legs even further and sliding my tongue, flat, over her entrance, moving up slowly enough to make her desperate, all the way up to her clitoris. Her hand was on my hair, gripping it tightly so that I wouldn't stop; I quickly moved it away and nodded towards the phone, where Hanna was still on the line.

"When are you coming back, Seb?" my wife spoke again. "The girls are asking more and more about you, and I don't know what else to tell them to make them stop."

"Well..."

Shit. Y/N had to stop arching her back, tilting her head back, and massaging her right breast because all that did was let me know that she was about to come, and for now, I didn't want her to reach that point.

My goal at that moment was twofold: to prevent Hanna, my wife, from discovering what I was doing, and to prevent Y/N, who seemed to be my new lover, from coming, no matter that three of my fingers were entering and exiting her at the same time as the tip of my tongue moved quickly over her clitoris.

"Seb? Can you hear me? Do you have coverage?"

"Yes, yes!" I hoped I didn't have coverage. "Although it's getting worse every time I think.”

The Spanish girl was close, I could feel it in the contractions of her entrance around my fingers. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and pulled her even closer to me, if that was even possible. I placed my right hand on the lower part of her stomach, forcing her to stay still.

"Hey, Hanna, I'm going to hang up because I think my phone is running out of battery," I lied again. Now, my only goal was to eagerly lick my new girl, not to talk to the woman I had been sharing my life with for years. "How about we talk tomorrow? I'll call you before I'm at the airport."

"Sure, Seb. Take care and don't do anything crazy, okay? And take care of Mick too, I don't want him doing anything crazy either."

I didn't give her time to say anything else because I pressed the red button at the same time as I withdrew from Y/N.

"You're a son of a bitch, Sebastian Vettel," was all the young woman said. I knew she wanted to kill me at that moment for leaving her on the edge of ecstasy.

"You know as well as I do that you'll thank me soon when I make you mine. The next time you fuck Carlos you regret it’s not me making you feel wanting to be fucked like the slut you are."

I put on the condom as quickly as I could and forced her legs to wrap around my waist.

I entered her abruptly, and now I was convinced that her scream had gone beyond the four walls surrounding us.

"Oh God, Sebastian. Don't stop, please."

"I hadn't planned on it, angel," I replied as best I could. Pleasure had invaded me too quickly, and I was quite surprised.

Why was the forbidden so tempting?

Her back arched again as my thrusts increased in both speed and depth. Her legs seemed to give way because I knew it would be difficult for her to hold out without coming after having been so close before; I kept them on my waist with one of my hands, while the other began to rub her most sensitive spot relentlessly.

"Look at me."

My voice sounded too demanding, but I didn't care.

"Look at me right now, angel," I repeated after seeing that she hadn't listened to me.

I felt her walls surrounding my penis as if her insides were on fire. Her gaze tortured me; her teeth biting her lower lip made me want to put her in a thousand more positions, to keep going with her until we both died of pleasure.

My hips increased in speed when I felt the nervousness in the lower part of my stomach. Then, I forced her to lie down more to start kissing her neck desperately, licking and sucking her nipples, making her sighs increase and forcing me to forget all worries.

Was it the same person who just a few hours ago was crawling around the corners because she had stopped being who she was a few years ago?

If having sex with Y/N would make me forget everything, I was more than condemned to madness because that was what I intended to keep doing if she allowed me.

"Seb..." the girl gasped. I felt her nails digging into my back. The pain that on another occasion would have seemed unbearable was now giving me pleasure.

I was desperate to come. I felt like I was about to explode, but I controlled myself because I didn't want the night to end so soon.

My hands went from holding her lower extremities to massaging her breasts, so big they didn't fit in my hands. I forced myself to stop giving her hickeys on her neck to lift myself up a little and enjoy the sight in front of me. My cock entered and exited Y/N constantly, more regularly even though I couldn't take it anymore; her breasts moving so irregularly because self-control was impossible, and her hand massaging her clit forcefully to come once and for all was an absolute damnation.

"Sebastian!"

I watched her squint her eyes after her shout because she wanted to see herself reach what we both had longed for that night. I followed her with a guttural sound and my semen filling the condom as my hands gripped her hips for as long as I was coming.

I stayed inside her long enough to realize that it had been real.

Meanwhile, silence had taken over. The only thing that could be heard was our breaths, agitated and synchronized with the rhythm of our chests.

I ran two of my fingers over her entrance before lying down, and without me telling her anything, she took them in her mouth, savoring herself. She did the same when she kissed me again, now lying on top of me.

"I want to keep going like this, Sebastian," she whispered, kissing me again in between. "But neither Carlos nor Hanna can find out."

"That's fine with me, angel. From now on, we're both each other's best kept secret."

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dragoncookies · 10 months

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(PT 1) REREADING STELLARLUNE!

I am on a mission this summer to reread the entirety of Stellarlune, every last word, because I’m really just delusional and don’t want to believe my favorite childhood series is spiraling downward (even though it truly is). There’s still some gold in Stellarlune, quite a lot actually.

SO, if you don’t want to reread stellarlune but still stay up to date you can follow me as I analyze this convoluted book. If you want, of course.

(TW: all caps).

(Sorry for grammar or spelling mistakes).

CHAPTERS 1-2:

Quick summary: Sophie finds the note, gets pissed at Grady for letting Keefe go and leaves her room to go to Elwin’s place with Sandor. Elwin and Ro are having a weird stuffed animal/exlir showdown, they have a long discussion about Keefe (go figure), then they call up Dex to figure out why Keefe freaked out and left. Dex clearly doesn’t want to tell them but they find out that Lex is talentless (it’s so sad).

First of all can I just say OH MY GOSH the whole thing is about Keefe. Literally that is all anyone obsesses over for the first two chapters so far. Literally his health and safety is ALL SOPHIE OBSESSES WITH in her internal monologues. Is that even healthy...?

CHAPTER ONE:

Funny thing, CHAPTER ONE HAS MAD PARRELELS TO THE SOPHITZ FIGHT SCENE IN LEGACY. Like, I’m not even lying when I say that I got intense flashbacks to that scene because Grady was literally acting like Fitz in his mannerisms and the syntax was so similar and the dialogue rang so many bells. It was uncanny.

Fitz tends to drag his toe on the ground and run a hand down his face when he’s stressed, and in this chapter Grady would be doing things like “dragging the toe of his boot through he flowers woven into her carpet”

and “Grady dragged a hand down his face”

I’m not even joking when I say that Grady said, “You trust me, don’t you?”.

There’s also a part in chapter one where it goes:

“’But I’ve never seen him so detirmined. Best I could do was...’

‘Was?’ Sophie prompted when he didn’t finish.”

In the Legacy fight scene there were multiple moments when Sophie didn’t finish her sentence and Fitz finished it. Except now it’s Sophie finishing the sentence. She was the one who was frustrated and she was lowkey acting like Fitz did in the Legacy fight scene. Little reverse reverse moment.

Do with this information what you will.

I never get tired of the Flori descriptions. In the first part of chapter one Shannon described her swaying to be like an autumn breeze, but at the end of chapter one she was described as swaying in a storm. Felt fitting.

Also,

someone get rid of Shannon’s ability to hit the Enter button,

Please.

;)

CHAPTER TWO:

I forgot how unironically comical Sandor is. It might just be me, but I narrate things when I read occasionally so I would be reading his stuff aloud with the squeaky bunny voice and everything he says is so serious but the voice makes it lowkey funny. The first lines of chapter two were so goofy because Sandor was all “it’s exactly what I feared” and it’s just Elwin’s house. It’s funny for me to imagine okay.

Chapter Two really highlights something in Sophie at this point: She is very unpractical. She’s a little dramatic but she refuses to listen to common sense and logic, and gets annoyed with anyone who tries to reason with her. She only listens to those who agree with her in that Keefe should have stayed. Like with Grady and Elwin she feels horribly betrayed, but connects with Ro because Ro wants to drop every current problem they’re all facing with the state of affairs in the elven world to find Keefe. When Dex (later in this chapter) points out Keefe might be safer in the lost cities Sophie gets mad and thinks “what’s wrong with everybody??” Like, Sophie please you’ve got bigger problems right now. Lowkey relatable ngl.

Okay I might ruffle some feathers with this, but Ro only gets more and more annoying with every new book that comes out. She’s so unbelievably in everyone’s business it’s surprising she has the fanbase she does. I feel as though Shannon is TRYING to make her BLATANTLY disrespectful and everyone just eats it up more and more. First of all, she just exposes Keefe’s personal statement in front of everyone and it clearly makes Sophie uncomfortable, then talks about how she’s been wanting this to happen forever and just assumes Sophie feels the same way about Keefe that Keefe does Sophie. Like, what would Ro have done if Sophie genuinely didn’t like Keefe? She’s shoving her nose in a teenage relationship she has NO BUISNESS being in. Gosh Ro. Sorry that was critical...she’s just so invasive. Also, this is a fantasy series, the romance is becoming excessive.

When Sophie calls up Dex, all I can say is oh my. Oh my.

Dex has clearly been crying and looks real rough and Sophie’s just like “so why are you crying. You’ve been crying tell me why, don’t argue with me” and when I tell you I’ve never wanted to reach through the pages and slap someone more. He’s clearly hurt and all she can think about is how badly she needs to get Keefe back. She makes Dex reorganize his priorities in the middle of a grieving session for his sibling so she can make him try and find Keefe. SOPHIE. HE’S YOUR FRIEND. BE NICE.

This entire conversation is also highlighting how lowkey hypocritical Sophie is (wow I’m absolutely bagging on the poor girl). She asks Dex “you trust me, don’t you?” when Grady literally asked her that a chapter ago and she got mad about it. She also tried to tease Dex a little to lighten the mood like Grady did a chapter ago when Sophie didn’t find it funny before.

Then there’s the part where Dex really really REALLY doesn’t want anyone to know that Lex is talentless and Ro just goes “well i know what happened and I’m going to spill your secrets in ten second unless you tell her yourself” (paraphrasing). That is just. I hate to say it but that is absolutely disgusting. You don’t hold people’s sensitive and personal information over their head’s like that. Dex has been sobbing and there’s crashing coming from his end of the imparter from inside his house. His world has probably been flipped upside down, he’s shouting “STOP” and asking them not to prod anymore, and Ro just FORCES the information to come out of him one way or another. That’s sick. It’s underhandedly sick. Sophie goes along with it too, using some pathos type sappy speech to convince Dex why invading his privacy is important because guess what? Finding Keefe (a relatively useless task) is more important than Dex’s privacy.

Then after Ro forces Dex to tell Sophie keefe’s new ability-detecting ability she makes it seem as though he’s overreacting.

Put simply: poor Dex.

There’s emphasis on the obsession with elven abilities in this chapter. Ro repeatedly highlights how bizarre it is that elves are so infatuated with something that can only be useful half the time, and Dex’s grief over Lex not having an ability shows how HEAVY the elven prejudice runs. Like, it’s literally making him cry. He doesn’t even want to say it. That’s how important it is in elven society. Dex even says, “Abilities define us for the rest of our lives”. Yikes. Maybe this is an important concept to keep in mind...?

I love this part of the chapter, though, when Dex actually does tell Sophie about Lex:

“’Oh,’

The tiny word seemed to pulse, growing louder with every beat until the sound filled the enormous room.

So did the word none of them said.

Talentless.

More tears dripped down Dex’s cheeks, and Sophie felt her own eyes turn watery.”

Sad :(

Well, that’s all for now. If you read all of that, you’re a legend. Stay tuned for more chapters!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc keefe #Keefe Sencen #kotlc sophie #kotlc ro #sophie foster #kotlc stellarlune #stellarlune #kotlc headcanon #fitz vacker #kotlc fitz #kotlc keefe sencen #kotlc sophie foster #kotlc Fitz vacker

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everysongineverykey · 2 years

Note

narrator and toriel exchanging tips on how to care for humans, especially stubborn and mischievous ones

it's ten at night and they're sitting (well, toriel is; the narrator can't "sit" anywhere perse) in toriel's new, sparse living room in her house on the surface as the crickets chirp outside and frisk sleeps soundly in the other room and it feels like the world's just sighed deeply, and everything's relaxing, and there are joke books and books on shrimp and snails lying around scattered on the table open to random pages and toriel chuckles and says, "my, your friend stanley sounds like quite the handful! although i find his dedication to the bucket admirable. it is good to have someone you can always rely on, no matter what others may do."

and the narrator scoffs and manages to pull off a very impressive verbal eye-roll, and says, "well, that'd be fine if anyone was actually trying to hurt him, but no one is! he's in no danger! he has absolutely no need to rely on a bucket!"

toriel frowns slightly. "did you not say, just a moment ago, that he was being... mind-controlled?"

"well- i mean- well, yes, in the past he was, before the story starts, but every single run starts him off at his desk, after the controls have been neutralized! he just has to walk down to the facility and turn them off for good! it's so unfathomably easy, and yet- and yet, he still manages to find ways to muck it up!"

halfway through, he remembers there's a child sleeping in the other room, and checks his tone, still adjusting to having to be conscious of the volume of his voice. it's a strange thing, being heard by real, feeling, speaking people.

fortunately, toriel doesn't seem to notice. unfortunately, her next question isn't easy to answer.

"has anything... undesirable ever happened to stanley under your watch?"

the narrator pauses, searching her unreadable face, thinking of something to say that won't totally ruin the atmosphere.

"oh, i do not mean to be rude!" toriel clarifies quickly, the perfect picture of motherly anxiety. "i only ask because... well... i have often found it... difficult raising humans in the past. i feel sometimes as if i will never... truly understand them."

this is a feeling the narrator knows all too well. "oh, i know exactly what you mean," he reassures her. "one time, stanley told me with a straight face that he genuinely believed a tractor was a bucket! and that nothing was a bucket! i swear, that obsession of his is getting the best of him!"

toriel is unable to contain her laughter, and the narrator congratulates himself on another Real Conversation Done Right. "why," he continues, "what've your humans gotten up to that's worried you?"

just like that, the mirth disappears from her face, and her features, though not having aged at all since her son died, suddenly look very worn.

it seems a long while before she replies, "every human child i have tried to raise leaves me and dies for it."

chirp, chirp, chirp. the cricket noise outside seems to grow louder in the oppressive silence that follows.

it's as if her sentence was scripted, edited for minimum length and maximum clarity, so if anyone asked she wouldn't have to explain it too deeply. if only the narrator had an instructional video on socializing he could watch to know what to say...

at a loss, he tries, "frisk's still here... aren't they?"

toriel smiles, and while the narrator isn't he best judge of monster facial expressions, he doesn't think they're usually supposed to look this sad.

"yes. frisk is still here. despite everything..."

she gives the child's bedroom door a long look, a look that carries too many emotions for the narrator to stuff into booths.

"despite everything," she continues, "frisk is still here. even after i fought them... even after i tried to trap them in the ruins forever... they chose to stay with me. but those seven children... they are not like your stanley. they cannot restart with the push of a button. they left. and they-"

she inhales suddenly and sharply, bringing a paw up to her face, and the narrator realizes she's about to cry.

the narrator is about to see someone cry in real life, for the first time ever. the thought shakes him, and he feels a sense of unease that he is sure fills the whole room.

(that's the problem with being everywhere at once- your emotions feel as omnipresent as your voice. it's not so bad, he thinks, when your only companion can't feel it, or speak to tell you it annoys him.)

she gives up on finishing the sentence, covering her eyes with her paw. she doesn't need to say any more. the rest is obvious: and they are never coming back.

to the narrator's surprise, she doesn't cry. not loudly, anyway. not in the sloppy, sob-ridden, theatrical way the narrator has only seen on television. no, she's just sitting there, paws rubbing her face, and from a distance you'd wonder if she was even crying.

suddenly, abruptly, she uncovers her eyes, which are now red and shiny and as glassy as stanley's, but they're shedding no tears. incredible, the narrator thinks. she can turn it off whenever she thinks it's her duty to be strong.

i wish i could feel as subtly as that, he thinks briefly before pushing the thought away.

"are you-" he starts tentatively.

"i am fine," she sniffs. "please, do not worry. i just... do not talk about this often. it is hard to-" she looks down, thumbing a page of one of the joke books. "-keep it all inside every day."

"but... you do?"

again that sad smile. what he wouldn't give for a happy one, like he's always dreamed of seeing. "yes. i do. i have no other choice. it is not something i can talk about with my friends, after all."

"i couldn't do that," the narrator says as softly as possible. "keep everything locked up like that. even if i did, my world would be affected if i felt too deeply about anything. the last time i started thinking in circles, the rooms started running in circles. if i kept something like that in all day..."

he trails off, deciding not to even imagine the effect one of his hypothetical breakdowns could possibly have on the game- and on stanley.

"fortunately," toriel murmurs, "nothing like that will happen if i spare my friends the burden of hearing a silly old woman cry over her past mistakes."

time passes. she's looking at the words in the joke book, but the narrator really doubts she's actually reading anything. based on his limited understanding of sapient beings other than himself, this is not right.

"if you'd like to talk about it," he offers, "i can do with something besides puns for a little bit."

she gives him a small smile in response, still not looking up. somehow, the narrator can tell it still isn't what a smile is supposed to look like- it doesn't quite reach her glassy eyes. he steels himself. alright. time to try a new maneuver.

"or, of course, we can keep reading from that book there. the one you're reading. i mean, i just felt, since you're so captivated by it..."

he recalls the comedy advice she's given him over the past hour, namely, please don't do anything you learned in that instructional video, and pushes on.

"...that you could use a tu-toriel!"

for a moment, her expression does not change- the narrator wonders briefly if all comedians' jokes are followed by a moment of silence to consider the quality of the joke- and then she does something that confuses him even further.

toriel scrunches up her face, covers her snout with her paws, and begins... crying? laughing? ...hyperventilating? he can't tell.

"i-i'm sorry," he stammers, "are- is that a laugh? are you crying? i'm truly sorry, i- i quite honestly can't tell."

at that, she doubles over, slapping her left paw on the table once very hard, and finally uncovers her mouth.

"oh, mister narrator!" she wheezes, "you truly have learned so much!"

...and, thank god, the narrator can see now that yes, she is laughing, and laughing hard at that- she crosses her arms over her stomach, giggling like it's the funniest thing she's heard in years.

and there's a smile on her face, a real smile. so this is what it's like to make someone smile, or laugh, the narrator thinks... he's always wondered. it feels nice, being the reason someone laughs. he can feel something bright rising up inside him... as if his very soul is glowing... it's almost as good as a perfect steam review.

(okay, maybe a little better.)

"yes," she sighs, calming down, "i have faith in you. your damaged sense of humour is, indeed... re-parable!"

the glowing something in the narrator grows two sizes, and whatever's been rising in him forces itself out... in the shape of an identical laugh. the sound's so ridiculous, it makes him laugh even more... if he had a body, he would make sure to slap his knee like they do in old human movies. that's always looked fun, he thinks.

her grin appears to grow at his reaction. it is nice, he thinks, to have some jokes besides your own to laugh at.

it takes them both a minute to calm down, but when they do, the silence is noticeably less heavy.

"i suppose," smiles toriel, "that stanley is not the humorous type?"

"no," the narrator replies, rather out of breath. "i told him bucket jokes for over an hour once. he didn't even flinch."

"do you think it is perhaps because you followed the rules of those instructional videos you mentioned?"

he sighs, but she can hear the smile in his voice. "oh, can you really blame me? they were the only point of reference i had. anyway, the jokes were funny! they were! i swear, i'll never understand him."

at that, toriel looks thoughtful. "they are confusing... are they not?"

the narrator's about to agree profusely, but then he recalls her question from earlier, the one that started them on this curious path in the first place...

he clears his non-throat, trying to adopt a more serious, yet not quite grave tone. god, he thinks, this is turning out to be harder than he ever expected.

"i..."

nothing comes to him. what could he possibly say?

i've lost stanley so many times, in so many ways, it's not funny? he never listens to me either, and he dies for it too? if you think YOU'VE failed as a guide, just wait until you hear about this incident with the staircase-

but some other part of him, the part that just saw a woman fall apart in seconds thinking of her regrets, rises up above these awful memories and steadies him, and for once, his worry doesn't expand to fill the whole space like a big balloon.

"yes?" toriel asks, searching the room for something to focus on in the absence of a real face and body.

"i think," he says, hoping it's obvious that he's not serious, "that humans are just about the weirdest damned creatures i've ever met. don't you?"

she stares into space for a moment, then fixes her eyes on the fireplace with a grin.

"you must admit, though, that they never cease to impress."

he laughs. "ha! 'impress' is one word for it. stanley once sword-fought an eldritch beast born from a bucket and WON!"

toriel giggles, clapping her paws. "i would love to meet this stanley of yours! he sounds like quite the character."

he's the MAIN character, the narrator thinks, and the best one i could ask for. he doesn't voice this thought.

suddenly, toriel's eyes light up. "in fact, i am certain he and frisk would get along splendidly! frisk would love their very own reassurance bucket!"

the thought makes the narrator chuckle and shudder in dread at the same time. "i'm sure they would. and that's why i don't know if that's such a good idea. didn't you say frisk fought the entire underground and won every time? i wouldn't want stanley getting strange ideas about rebellion or things like that-"

at that moment, the door to frisk's bedroom brushes open just a crack, making the narrator jump in his own metaphysical way.

the child still looks half asleep in their blue-and-pink striped jumper, one eye still squeezed shut and with a terrific case of bedhead as they lean on the doorway, and as they look around dazedly, the narrator reconciles their image with every stock photo of human children he's ever seen, and thinks: yeah, that checks out.

"mom?" frisk signs, their hands taking a minute to orient themselves, presumably out of tiredness. the narrator feels a tinge of guilt for waking them up. "i thought i heard you talking to someone..."

toriel blinks, seeming a little surprised, then moves quickly over to her sleepy child. "oh! oh, my, i am very sorry, my child... did we wake you?" she kneels down, smoothing their ruffled hair. "we will be quieter."

frisk looks past her, confused. "but... who are you talking to? i don't see anyone."

the awkwardness of having to interact with a child is just now hitting the narrator, he discovers as toriel attempts to explain the faceless, incorporeal, omnipotent, extradimensional being in their home.

"oh, no, my child, some things cannot be seen... mister narrator, would you say hello?"

oh. saying hello to a child. all right. this is fine. the narrator clears his head and says, "well, hello there, sport-o! smashing jumper you've got there! i hear you can cheat death. that affect your grades at all?"

toriel just stares. frisk fixates on one specific point on the floor, eyes wider than dinner plates at the sudden voice seemingly coming from nowhere.

really, thinks the narrator, he should be awarded for having no body and yet still somehow managing to very skillfully put his foot in his mouth.

(frisk's seen too much to be fazed, though. as far as they're concerned, a new person is a chance at friendship and some pie- both of which they receive in the hours after the narrator apologizes profusely.)

#undertale #the stanley parable #this got REALLY long whoof so i'm putting it under a cut lol #but do please read! it's very much a one-draft but i had maybe a bit too much fun with it #sorry lmao a full mini fic probably isn't what you were expecting but i saw this ask and got inspired💙

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give-soup-please · 2 years

Note

Could you please write about a reader with parental abuse history being the adopted little sister to The Narrator? Like he sees them being gaslighted and verbally abused and is just: "No, you're going to have to go through me first", "I suppose you need a real elder figure to look up to and teach you things."

(alright, this one went straight into wish fulfillment territory. And I hope I wrote the narrator as a big brother well, I don't have a lot of experience with healthy sibling dynamics)

Narrator as big brother figure to his adopted little sister reader

The narrator has been keeping a close eye on you for a while now. Ever since he broke out of his game, he’s been listlessly wandering from place to place. There are very few willing protagonists on this side of reality. Various humans occupy his attention, but never for very long. Not until he finds you.

There’s something familiar about you. The narrator doesn’t have any relatives, not as far as he knows, but he looks at your actions, the way you move through the world, and it all feels so… recognizable.

He knows what this is, it’s on the tip of his tongue. It’s the fear he gets before a reset is forced on him. It’s the feeling of total despair whenever Stanley stops responding to him. He sees in you similar shades of emotions to what he’s gone through. Yes, the situations are different, but it makes him upset to see it happen to someone else.

He watches the fear you have of your parents, the despair of going to sleep in a place that’s terrible for you. He realizes that you need help. So he begins to step in.

He doesn’t quite know why, at first. It hardly makes sense to him. He’s always tried to hold back from being invested in the lives of others, and yet, and yet…

He sees the person hiding underneath the abuse. The spirit, beginning to shatter. The heart, under the stress of cracking. The wonderful being that could be, if given a fighting chance.

He’s still just a voice for the time being, so he comes into your bedroom one night when you’ve been crying. He clears his throat, and you startle.

“W-Who’s there?” You ask, keeping your voice low. You’re too afraid that if you’re loud, your parents will come back. He adopts the same quiet tone. “I was wondering-” and here he pauses, trying to work out what to say next. He decides to start simple. “It appears to me that you could use some help. You seem as though you’re in need of-” What word does he want to use? He flicks through several in the span of a few microseconds. “-A… narrative guide.”

Well, if your mind had snapped, at least it had chosen a nice voice to begin the descent into madness.

“Yeah, alright. My name is reader.”

And so begins a very interesting dynamic.

He’s very protective, always trying to sooth you in the best way he knows how: storytelling. Even though it’s been a long time since he and Stanley last interacted, it’s part of his function naturally to talk and spin tales.

He will tell you Stanley’s story, and then- recognizing that you’ll get bored quicker than he did, researches what stories to tell you next. He’ll tell them all, grandly. Fairy Tales, fantasy, and interestingly enough, he begins to enjoy telling mythology stories as well. There’s something about slightly different versions of the same story that’s really soothing to him.

You’ll sink into bed after another grueling day with your abusers, and he’s there to sooth you with his voice and stories. You’ve fallen asleep many nights to the comforting sounds of him talking.

He begins to document everything your parents do. For some odd reason, their version of the truth and yours don’t match up. Your parents tend to insult and degrade you and then pretend that they didn’t. It’s sickening.

“No, no, no, reader. Your mother definitely said something awful a few hours ago. I won’t repeat it, because I don’t think you need to hear it twice, but I am telling you, she was cruel.”

He watches them play this disgusting game again and again, making you doubt your perception of reality. He’ll do his best to keep you grounded. Now that you’ve got a second pair of ears and eyes, life becomes a bit easier to manage.

He comforts you as best he can. “Reader, I know it’s difficult, but you’ve got to remember there’s a better life waiting for you outside this place. I can’t intervene, not directly, but I can help hold you together until you have the resources to leave.”

He celebrates every small victory you have, every inroad to health you create. He doesn’t know when it happens, but he eventually starts seeing you as a little sister.

He listens to you, whenever you need to vent or complain. You have a lot to complain about, given your current living situation. The narrator is always there to lend a sympathetic ear.

He’s always available to help when you need it, whether it’s encouragement, help with school/work projects, or motivation. The narrator’s skills at convincing people to do things are unparalleled.

The narrator inwardly seethes at your treatment. He’s watched you suffer for too long. He begins to develop a plan. One of your parents is yelling at you about something stupid. For the first time ever, he speaks up on your behalf.

“You know, your parenting skills leave much to be desired.” Both you and your parent freeze. It’s the only thing you share in common. He continues, “Honestly, I have no faith in a universe that puts people like reader in the care of a wretch like you, but luckily they have me to help guide them properly.”

The narrator’s voice curls around the room in a slightly sickening way. You’d feel much worse if the venom was directed at you. “Reader is under my protection now, so I suggest you leave before things get ugly. Well, as ugly as your heart is, at any rate.”

Your parent flees the room in terror. You’re somewhere between laughter and tears. The narrator rests his hand on your shoulder, and speaks softly. “Are you alright?” You aren’t sure.

One day, the treatment by your parent escalates. The narrator watches them storm to your room and feels a spike of fear. He quickly pools his energy together, just in case. They’re screaming in your face. You’re terrified. The narrator is filled with rage. In slow motion, he watches your parent lean back, ready to strike you. And in one visceral instant, he manifests in the physical world and blocks their hand.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He snarls. The parent gasps in surprise and fear. “Reader, do me a favor. Close your eyes.” You’re quick to obey. Even behind your eyelids, you wince at the flash of white. You wait a few seconds, then cautiously open your eyes. Your parent is gone.

“Where- did you kill them?” You ask. The narrator sighs. “Unfortunately, no. I don’t have that level of power in this world. I just teleported their body somewhere else. Seattle, the Sahara, somewhere beginning with an ‘S’.” He crouches down to where you’re sitting on the bed. “It’s alright, reader. You’re safe now.”

“But- how are we going to- I can’t live without their financial support!”

The narrator sighs. “I know. I’ve been working on a few solutions to that. It’s not perfect. The next few months are going to be very hard. Unless-” He looks at you, kindly. “I could bring them back.”

“No!” You say. “I mean- no thank you.”

The narrator doesn’t know how to feel about what he’s done. But you’re his little sister, and he couldn’t bear the thought of not protecting you when it counted the most.

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #answered ask #tsp #stanley parable #narrator #platonic

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stargazer-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Spiritbox

character: reigen arataka

reader: gender neutral

content warnings: sexual content, at the end

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. unreliable narrator. companion piece to ghost box; it’s recommended to read that one first but it isn’t necessary

There was no room for a romantic angle in any of your current relationships. You didn’t want that. Even in your online communities, there wasn’t really anyone you were interested with in that type of manner, content to stay as just friends, just acquaintances, coworkers and space-sharers.

So you tried the popular dating app.

Reigen thinks it’s only appropriate, for a business, to branch out and follow the latest trends—to come up with new ways to put himself, and his name, and his office out there. Yes, he’s stood out on the street and handed out flyers, made a website, shot peace signs at passing cameras, but he still found that business was slow lately, boringly so; only emails and articles to fill the time.

When it was only him and Mob, a quiet day at the office usually saw him sending the kid home early. Now that he had an additional name in the lineup, there was only so many times a week he could send Serizawa to reorganize the massage oils before the man would mutter that there wasn’t much left to do. The fact of the matter was: there hasn’t been much of anything to do for quite the while, and Reigen was starting to get just a tad bit worried about how he was supposed to pay the upcoming bill.

He decides to download a dating app. That seemed new and innovative enough to gain a decent attraction. Plenty of people used those platforms to form various types of relationships, not just of the romantic kind. So he’s heard, that is—it’s not like he’s ever actually used a dating app before.

Successfully, anyway.

Besides the point—Reigen entered his login information and got to work rebuilding his profile; spending a lot of time scrolling through his camera roll to find the most appropriate photos to use and typing up the best imaginable pitch for the office he’s ever come up with. It took an entire afternoon—“Sl-slow day isn’t it, sir?”—but by closing time, he got the account up and running. It was under his name, with his face, but he figured it would do well to get potential customers well acquainted with his physical appearance—so they could associate him with his brand, of course. There was no Spirits and Such without the greatest psychic of the twenty-first century, after all.

He spent the rest of the night and most of the following day swiping right. Statistically speaking, if he set his range at the largest possible amount and liked every account that came his way, he was bound to get at least a couple of matches. And once he did, only a handful of those would actually interact with him, and out of those, only a fraction would come to see him. That had been his previous strategy with the app, anyway. It would have been, if he had ever used it before, of course.

His hand was starting to cramp when Mob asked him—“What game are you playing, Master? You’ve been playing it all day, is it that interesting?”

Suddenly, it felt extraordinary hot in the room. His back was wet, like he ran ten marathons and was about to start another one immediately afterwards. His mind went blank, and he found that he was lost without words. This was a very uncommon occurrence for Reigen—for you see, he was able to talk himself out of just about any situation he found himself in, and was quite known to be capable of talking a mile a minute if he really wanted to—so to be left so utterly tongue-tied without an idea on exactly why he felt such a way burned him up. Badly. Like he needed to throw his phone against the wall, fast, before it was too late.

This was about the same time that Serizawa found his voice. “I probably have the same game…do you want some tips?” And when he started to lean in over his shoulder to see what exactly was on Reigen’s phone, the device did, in fact, find its way across the room; crashing against the wall opposite, ricocheting around, before bouncing to the floor, where it clattered to a stop at the foot of his desk.

Silence filled the space. It felt like a record-breaking summer.

Finally, like a switch had been flipped, he regained some of his bearings. “Oops!” he exclaimed, “I dropped my phone! How clumsy of me!” He laughed, getting up to retrieve the device; and it was an achievement in itself that the two psychics in the room couldn’t have stopped the phone in time—but to have them both so stunned by his behavior that they didn’t pick it up for him was award-worthy, truly. He outdid himself this time.

A quick inspection found nothing amiss, so he snapped it shut, and slipped it into his pocket. He swiped at his bangs—to wipe away the lingering sweat—and smiled. “It’s just some gatcha game I saw an ad for. I was grinding for crystals so I could do some more pulls.” A wink to Serizawa saw the man blushing and turning away, so he didn’t catch the thumbs up he gave him. “You know how it is.”

“I-I do—I do. Good luck, sir.”

“Oh,” was all Mob said, and nothing more; and they left it at that.

---

It took about a week before he got his first match. He was so ingrained in typing up an email one-handed while using his other to simultaneously consistently swipe that he almost missed the notification. He scrambled into the chatroom.

[[ hello!! ]]

He waited.

He waited all day, but got left on read.

---

This happened six more times over the course of the next month before he actually got a reply. It took another two for him to realize that he couldn’t wait for a reply back to start his spiel, he had to lead with it instead. That got some conversations going, but no one actually agreed to come out to see him. He was getting traction, but stumbled halfway out.

This was familiar. Achingly so.

---

The day after he matched with you, he was about to shut the whole venture down and come up with a new one. Maybe focus more on the website, maybe find some bulletin boards and scatter some posters in the local area. He was laying in bed, contemplating some ideas when you messaged him.

(( Hi ))

He stared at the message. He had already sent the pitch beforehand; such a simple response must mean that this was a potential future client, surely. A quick look through your profile was enough to tell him he should take the friendly approach.

[[ hello!! ]]

[[ how may i help you? ]]

The friendly approach included lots of emojis. According to research, frequent amount of emoji use made people appear more sociable and less intimidating. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it, less he appeared corporate instead.

The symbol indicating you had seen his messages popped up, and he gripped his phone a bit tighter.

(( You’re a psychic? ))

[[ yes i am!! ]]

There was a pause. He felt himself gulping, despite himself.

(( Do you do curses? ))

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he allowed his tongue to click. If this was where your mind went after seeing the word psychic, he better let you down as quickly as possible, as easily as possible.

[[ i’m afraid i don’t offer curses ]]

[[ i do offer evil repellent charms if that’s something you’re interested in ]]

Hopefully, that would satisfy you enough. It usually worked as an alternate option for clients; it had to be presented before they got too worked up, though. People who craved curses tend to latch on to ideas quickly and refuse to let go, kicking and screaming.

(( That sounds interesting. Tell me more? ))

Bingo.

---

Over the course of the following week, you were the only one he had matched with. That was a negative. A positive, however, was that your curiosity seemed to grow the more you spoke to each other—and he found himself messaging you throughout the day. You would ask him about his business. What sort of methods he used and what kind of spirits he’s faced. If he was successful, what he would do in hypothetical situations. Easy to answer questions, and even easier to embellish answers.

It was on the seventh day that Mob spoke up. “Master, have you been messaging clients?”

Once more, the office turned into a sauna. From his desk, he stared blankly at his student.

“Because if you are, I don’t think it’s working.” The kid always had such a way with words, truly. “We haven’t had many jobs lately.” It was the truth. Spoken clearly, if not confidently.

He wondered why Mob assumed he was messaging a client specifically, and not someone else. Not a personal matter or another acquaintance of his, family or friend. But when he thought about it, and he looked into his student’s eyes, partially obscured by his cropped hair, Reigen didn’t like the conclusion he got to. Not at all.

“Ah, well,” his hands flew around him, pointing and gesturing to nothing in particular but his vague point. And what was his point? Why was he so flustered? “I set up a messaging line on the website, is all. So I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately. That must be why we haven’t had many walk-ins this week—my online advice is just that good! I impress even myself sometimes, really.”

He was glad Serizawa had class today. He was sure the man would have checked the so-called messaging line on the spot. Mob, for his part, just took his word on it.

“Oh,” he said, and nothing more; and they left it at that.

---

The dating app strategy worked. He hit a breakthrough, and over half of the customers coming in over the following month were those he had matched with—and a good chunk of the other half had been word of mouth from that demographic. Business was flourishing. The safe never looked so good. Clients and curiosities flooded in; his schedule was booked for the first time in ages. He had several interviews with news sites and even a small television segment. The dating app strategy truly was innovative, and he started running across other small businesses during his swiping sessions—he was a trendsetter.

Reigen Arataka, the headlines said in big, bold letters. Greatest Psychic of the Twenty-First Century.

Of course, with the raise in popularity, the truth eventually came out to the rest of the office. Mob labeled him a genius. Serizawa was happy for him. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed to begin with.

He delegated all the duties of the app to himself. It would be much easier if he had help—but he didn’t want them to see your messages. His face still burned at the thought of it, so he split up the rest of the workload evenly, to keep up with the demand.

One day, in the office, between appointments, in the lull of papers shuffling and a lunch-run, Reigen held up his phone in front of him. The shutter noise was turned all the way down, so Serizawa didn’t hear the photo of himself he took. He was feeling pretty good. Better than he had in weeks.

He sent it to you.

Your curiosity seemed to have peaked a while back, but you had never once come in. You had admitted that the conversations you shared were pleasant and, on a day very much like this one, Reigen was careless, and gave you his number. He enjoyed talking to you, too. He found himself checking his phone more often, these days. And when you sent a photo of yourself back, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Oh.

He couldn’t leave it at that; and he cleared his schedule.

---

The day you finally came to visit him was the day he finally got to touch you. Your moans underneath him was all he could ever ask for, and the fact that this was his workspace didn’t matter much to him at all. Not when your lips parted like that, and your back arched for him. Not with the scent of you, and him, and the oils and incense around you, so much that it made it hard to think. Intoxicating, driving him further and further off the edge, higher, rapidly—

He buried himself deep, and you gasped, writhing across the massage table, panting and blurry-eyed. In the moments following, his mind cleared enough for him to realize a thorough room cleaning was in order. And with that thought came another: it didn’t matter what happened—if you would have him, he’d be happy to clean up later.

#reigen arataka #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 fanfic #mob psycho 100 fanfic #reigen arataka x reader #reigen arataka x you #reigen arataka imagine #reigen arataka imagines #mob psycho 100 imagines #mob psycho 100 imagine #mob psycho 100 x reader #mob psycho 100 x you #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #misapprehension

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bikelock28 · 1 year

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romione please!

What made you ship it?

They're the lead couple of the series, aren't they? It's the central love story and there are so many wonderful moments- yes, cute ones, but also I love all their conflict and differences and friendly bickering unfriendly arguing. They are the main romance of a huge 7 book series so of course you have to ship them.

(....especially if you're a nerdy, bookish, average-looking girl who sees herself as Hermione, which of course maaaaaany of us did. Hermione Granger was our Holden Caulfield. Anyway, I have since humbled myself and realised NO WAY am I smart enough. Or maybe I'm a grown-up now and we never see her become one?).

I have a very clear memory of sitting on a coach from York to Whitby, the Summer DH came out, making up how Romione officially got together after the Battle of Hogwarts. I didn't know what fanfic was at the time and would have been scared to commit my little scene to the page. Though I still remember bits of it now!

What are your favourite things about the ship?

"Ah well. Worth a try, but you were a bit obvious," "Well, next time you can show me how it's done, Master of Mystery!"

"He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened".

"Hark whose talking. Confunded anyone lately?"

"You asked a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

That whole scene in OotP when Harry is telling them about kissing Cho. I tried to copy some of it here but there is too much which is hilarious, sweet and generally amazing. Some subtle, some not subtle. It is GOLD.

I looooove going back and spotting all the hints (Harry certainly didn't) and arguing about when they first liked each other etc.

The narrative voice is so so funny about Romione. Again, too many quotes to copy out here but the narrator is the sassiest one of the Trio for sure.

How JKR avoided the Main Boy/ Main Girl romance. It's never on the cards, and I love that.

Romione has everything! Conflict- check. Pining- check. Cuteness- check. Humour- check. Best friends- check. Characters who are baffled by each other- check. Danger- check. Honestly what more could you want in a ship?

When Hermione hits Malfoy, storms out of Transfiguration, and sneaks out to get the cloak. Ron is awed, and Hermione is flattered. Aaaw.

Mrs Weasley sending Hermione a rubbish Easter Egg when she thinks Hermione is with Krum.

Ron realising his worth.

Hermione being a Queen.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I don't think so?

#romione #hp #questions or something #nothing but respect for MY kim and kanye

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shortpirateking · 11 months

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(A/n: this is mostly a silly fic based upon shenanigans of me assigning different Narrators and Stanleys crystals and i,,, wanted to give my own boys some so i *waves to this* finally got brave enough to post this djsjdnd)

Returning from the Neverending stream known as the Paraverse had always been a difficult thing for Aren. It required more concentration than they ever thought possible for their constantly swirling mind - and a power they never thought they had.

Though, granted, most of the harder parts was done by their Morgan, it still surprised the man how he could even open one of the established portals long enough to return to the parable they knew and loved...which is where she stood now, a look of exhausted happiness in their eyes and a newly empty backpack by their legs.

It was a silly desire, but something Aren felt compelled to do for.. well, she didn't quite know why. It was something nice, something kind... maybe he wanted to give them a little happiness? Or perhaps a selfish desire for them to know she existed and for them to like her? Maybe both.. Aren knew they weren't a Saint, so it'd make sense they didn't do it for selfless reasons.... even if seeing the joy on others faces made the ache in their legs worth every minute of it (and the soreness that would come tomorrow). He could still recall some of the reactions- of excitement, awe and curiosity as each recieved a crystal she thought best suited them and gave a little explanation (and a silly fact if she knew one). Each reaction was a little different, and almost every one of them made the male happy..

Most at least. He tried to avoid the ones he gave more... darker meaning crystals to for fear of what they may think. Instead she opted for leaving them in little boxes with a note explaining their properties and why they gave them it- without leaving their name of course. Aren isn't stupid enough to give some of the more terrifying Narrators their name.

Eyes closed as they sat upon the nearest chair. They were so tired.. perhaps they could sleep here-

"Ah, there you are.. I assume you had fun running around?"

Ah, right! They almost forgot!

Arens gaze peeked open to see two familiar forms beside them- of Morgan and Stanley, both with amused looks in their gazes. Maybe he was a little too predictable sometimes.

"Ah, hey guys.." his voice was soft, revealing the exhaustion from traveling all over to finish his silly little task he gave himself. "Yeah, I did.. miss me?"

Stanley chuckled, while Morgan's lips quirked up a little more at the joke. Aren watched as Stanley raised his hands to sign.

[Yes. We did. Its pretty quiet without you here.]

"Awww" a grin spread across their lips, a chuckle as they reached out to hug Stanley "you're too frigging sweet. What did I ever do to get to befriend you?" They kissed his cheek, earning a soft laugh and a blushing face.

Eyes closed, basking in the warmth Stanley always seemed to eminate as his strong arms wrapped around their smaller form. Gods, they really could fall asleep like this. Aren was sure Stanley wouldn't mind carrying them to their room. Both of them had a nasty habit of falling asleep in weird places..

The clearing of Morgans throat snapped the two men from their thoughts. "Stanley, you might want to let Aren sit again, poor thing looks like they're about to fall asleep on their feet." Morgan's golden eyes were upon both, a flush to his face that wasn't there before. Poor guy still had trouble admitting his desire for affection.. but that was something both Stanley and they were working on.

[Fine fine.] Stanley playfully rolled his eyes before helping them back onto their seat. [How was it though? Did the others enjoy their rocks?]

Stanley was smiling. His brown eyes were wide and sparkling that reminded both Morgan and Aren of an excited child... and goodness, did it make Arens cheeks warm and heart flutter at the sight!

"They actually did!" Aren couldn't help but grin at the two as they recounted the days shenanigans "all the Stanley's were all beyond excited for their crystals, and many of the narrators seemed happy! At least I hoped so" a chuckle, "but... actually I wasn't able to finish them all"

"Oh?"

Aren shook their head even as they moved to their bag to rummage through their bag to procure the last two crystals they had... and presented them to Morgan and Stanley.

"I hadn't given either of you yours..."

Surprise, wide eyed looks of wonder and excitement appeared on both as she placed the stones in their respective hands. "Stanley.. you're like a ray of light to me, you're always so cheerful and happy, and you constantly remind us that there's a light at the end of the tunnel..that we can be our true selves without fear... so.. I wanted you to have this Sunstone." Aren couldn't help but smile warmly up to the man as she continued, "it's thought to have captured the sun within.. it's a nurturing crystal and well... helps one remember the light in darkness...like you."

As Stanley stood there, Aren turned to Morgan silently observing his own stone. "Morgan... you've always done your best to protect Stanley and I. You keep us grounded and give us strength when we can't find our own.. so I thought onyx would fit well.. it's a grounding stone, and helps you find your inner strength, like you do for us.. it also helps give support during difficult times and -" Aren glanced back upwards to continue, only to have his breath stolen as he looked at the two before him-

*they were...smiling. more than that, both men were smiling in the same way that made his heart flutter, that always made them unsure what to say or do.*

[Thank you, Aren] Stanley signed with a bright smile as he held his stone tight to his chest

"Yes... thank you.. I'll cherish this" Morgan was already moving to gently pat their shoulder... only to yelp rather comically as Stanley grabbed the man to pull him into a hug with Aren. "Stanley!"

As Morgan sputtered with a red face filled with indignation, as Stanley laughed and held both of them tighter, Aren found herself smiling even as she relaxed into the warm hug.

Yeah...today went well..

And unbeknownst to the taller men, Aren fell asleep with a smile on their face.

#the stanley parable ultra delux #tsp #the stanley parable #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #oc #self insert #tspud narrator #tspud stanley #Stanley #Narrator #Aren

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ledenews · 4 months

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Tops of '23 - Newsman ‘Mark Davis’ Was Wheeling’s Walter Cronkite

(Publisher's Note: Joe Tarantini wasn't from here. He knew few people on his first day of work. By the end of his career, though, everyone in the Wheeling area was well aware of the newsman albeit by a different name. And history judges Tarantini as one of the valley's best new reporters of all time, and this is why.) He was a mixture between the legendary Walter Cronkite and the fictional Ron Burgundy, but for more than half of his life, not many in the Upper Ohio Valley knew Joe Tarantini. Radio listeners and television watchers throughout the tri-state region, however, were quite aware of “Mark Davis,” a stage-named news director who was weaponized with a matter-of-fact voice, “I care about you” eyes, and a gentleman’s genuine sincerity. Davis didn’t just deliver the news as one of the prominent anchors on WTRF TV-7, but he collected it, fact-checked it, and he stayed on it until he discovered the end of the story. Tarantini, or “Davis,” was an American newsman, and that mattered during the days when Ohio River communities between Steubenville and Benwood were engulfed by the soot of steelmaking and manufacturing of everything from a child’s Big Wheel to a grandmother’s favorite candy dish. Davis told the region’s residents about coal mine explosions, infrastructure expansions, campaign promises and election decisions, and so much more. “When the information is given to the people, on radio, television or in print, it must be accurate. I could never stress that enough. Always check the fact as though your job depends on it. Because the truth is, it does.”' Joseph Tarantini, aka “Mark Davis,” narrated a story composed by people experiencing industrial prosperity in a blue-color culture surrounded by religious posturing and a sense of survival. He told the people the good news as readily as he offered the bad, but most importantly, he told the truth. “I realized my father was the real deal in the news business and I was intimidated by it, actually,” explained Gina Baker, one of Tarantini’s three children. “I had a sister five years younger and when I was in high school she was very much into the journalism part of the industry. She wanted to be on the school’s newspaper staff, and all of that stuff. “I didn’t want to any of those things because I felt, I knew then, I could never match what my dad had did and what he was doing then,” she recalled. “I didn’t want to be compared like the other reporters who tried. My Dad was the news, and he was proud of it.” Tarantini was a very pleasant man when he was in the public, and he always took the time to speak with local residents. Just the Facts, Ma’am Tarantini was born in Pittsburgh on January 19, 1931, to parents very proud of their Italian heritage. In fact, when he began his career with WHJB in Greensburg, the station manager order him to change his name was because Tarantini was “too ethnic.” “After first I said that I couldn’t because it would upset my mother,” he wrote in 2006. “He asked me of my mother was going to feed my wife and child. So, we compromised. He chose the last name and I insisted that I spell it my way to reflect by Italian heritage. So, Joe Terri was born.” Then he included, “My mother was livid. I told her I spelled it with an “i” at the end. She didn’t speak to me for two months.” Tarantini is the father of three children to his first wife, including Gina Baker. “My Dad would tell that story pretty often and just laugh about it,” Baker said. “But he would tell people his real name because of how proud he was. He would get this look on his face and you could just tell how proud he was. “After that, he took a job with WOMP in 1961, and then he moved to WWVA quickly in 1962, and that’s when he changed his on-air name again,” she said. “But it wasn’t until 1965 when he went to WTRF when people really got to know ‘Mark Davis.’ “It wasn’t until high school when my friends and classmates started making a big deal about who my dad was. No one cared when we were younger because we didn’t really care about the news back then,” Baker explained. “They would ask me if he was nice, and if he was always that serious. I remember someone asking me if he ever smiled, and my dad smiled a lot. He loved when he got to do for a living. “He was Wheeling’s Walter Cronkite. He never said that, but I know he knew it,” she insisted. “I know people told him that, too, and that made him proud. He took it very seriously and he was the best.” Davis was the respected pillar of WTRF's news department for a few decades. An Honest American He married Edna in 1954 and they reared three children, Gina, Angela, and the late Joseph Tarantini Jr. Edna divorced Tarantini in 1965, though, and then she departed Wheeling on a motorcycle with a boyfriend two years later. “We ran to the corner store where there was a pay phone so we could call our Dad at work, and when we told him he said, ‘We’re going to make it work, don’t worry,’” Baker remembered. “And that’s what we did. We made it work. And then, after he married his girlfriend (Peggy Potts Spurlin), there were seven of us kids (Phil, Susie, Joan, and Jackie), and he made sure it worked then, too. “When it came to affection, he didn’t do a whole lot of that, especially in public,” she said. “But we knew he loved us. He did tell us sometimes that he loved us, but he showed it all the time. He was the quiet type, though.” The journalist also stayed mum about the money made – or didn’t make depending on one’s professional perspective. Tarantini - near the end and on the left side of the table - covered politics closely, making several trips to the White House during his career. “My father never really made the money people thought he did, and he was never paid what he felt he deserved either,” Baker revealed. “But he didn’t care either and that’s why you didn’t hear him talk about it. He loved this valley, and he loved the people here. I don’t think he ever regretted moving to this area from where he was from in Pittsburgh because Wheeling used to be just a smaller version of Pittsburgh to him. The people were the same hardworking people. “When I think of my Dad, I remember the respect I’ve always had for him and for what he did,” she continued. “He worked his rear end off trying to provide for all of us, and it all worked out really well. Honestly, he was talented at what he did every single day that I forgot that he had never graduated from high school let alone from college. He was very smart, very honest, and he learned his craft on his feet, that’s for sure.” Tarantini, or “Mark Davis,” was proud to have “discovered” on-air personalities like Frank O’Brien, Brenda Danehart, and Faith Daniels, an anchor who took her talents to the national level, and he was a veteran of the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War and was interred in Section 4 or the National Cemetery of the Alleghenies following his passing on April 18, 2011. He was a reporter and an anchor for WTRF beginning in the mid-1960s. His daughter wished for his epitaph to read, “An Honest American.” “When I have spoken to people from Wheeling who are older than 40, they’ve always asked about my father because they’re old enough to remember him, but if they ‘ve been younger than 40, forget about it,” Baker reported. “When people do realize I’m his daughter, at first they don’t believe it for whatever reasons, and then they have a lot of different questions. And a lot of people think I have my dad’s eyes. I hear that a lot. “They talk to me about how different the news was back then, and that they could believe the news and the people delivering it. It’s not like it is today and they recognize that,” she said. “My father wasn’t politically motivated in any way when he reported the news because he was such a believer in truth. He got the facts, and he always go it right,” Baker added. “That’s what he cared about the most, and what loved the most. The people of Wheeling were lucky to have the real thing.” The award-winning journalist has three children, including Gina Baker. Read the full article

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pyr0-kai · 1 year

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My Son Is friends with the monster under his bed…

(Original creepypasta | Horror)

One shot story

Word Count - 1077

Constructive Criticism welcome!

My son is 6 and we call Rocky. He's always been a strange kid, not interested in other kids, or recess activities. Rocky has always been a bit of a recluse, always preferring to stay his his room and do his own thing. Which is okay, he follows all the house rule, does his chores, and eats dinner with the rest of the family. My husband removed the lock on his door, just incase we need him, but Rocky doesn't mind it.

Lately, rocky has been mentioning more and more about a monster under his bed. I always go along with his stories and ask if he needs help getting rid of the monster. But he always says

"No! Momma, its a nice monster, he protects me momma"!

I just laugh a bit and go along with it. Lately though, he has been talking alone in his room a lot while laying on the floor, head turned towards the bed. My husband always seems to toss it up as "kids will be kids"! It just seems more concerning than that to me...

Later that week, my work shift was changed to early mornings, 6 a.m through 2 pm. This ment I had to get up around 5. Getting up that early, gave me the shivers, especially walking past Rocky's room. Almost every night, growling or somewhat of deep voice can be heard coming from his room. When I quietly peek into there though, all sound stopped, but his soft snores.

After a week of those sounds, I felt like I was crazy. I pulled Rocky aside after dinner Friday night, and asked him "When it's bedtime, do you hear noises"?

"Yeah Momma, thats just spike! He lives under the bed and protects me when I go to bed" His smile was adorable, but I was still filled with dread.

"Your imaginary monster friend, Rocky?"

"No Silly! He is real" Rocky Giggled. "He wears a lot of black and shadows, but I can see him, it just takes focus".

"Well, can you tell spike to go away? Your Dad and I will protect you, trust me hon".

"Oh I know you and Dad protect me! I love you two! Spike is my friend though, and you guys are asleep at night, he watches in the night! He also can't leave, something about being a ghost tethered to the house? I didn't quite understand".

"We love you too Rocky", and thats where I left the conversation, not wanting to prod too much out of a six year old boy. From that night on, before I left for work, I peeked into his room, and tried to look underneath his bed, the best I could. One Night, at about 5:30 am, I did my usual check up in Rocky's room, and I swear, deep red, almost black orbs for eyes made eye contact with me. When I blinked, they were gone. It put me even more on edge

Everything seemed the same, for a week or so, until one day, after work. I was watching the news with my husband, and there was a segment on a string of robberies on our street, as well as a few over, they're suspected to be all linker to one criminal. The criminal looked like a dollar store version of Pedro Pascal, face scars and scraggly hair. My husband made sure all the doors and windows were locked last night. Later I realized a horrible foresight.

My husband and I were cuddling and trying to fall asleep at about 11:15 PM, when we were jolted awake to what sounded of screaming, thrashing, and a wet splatter sound coming from down the hallway. My Husband grabbed the handgun from under his side of the bed and quickly loaded it as I grabbed the baseball bat on my side. We both dashed down the hall, and looked at each/other with fear in our eyes as quiet gurgling could be heard, as well as a strong coppery vile smell, coming from Rocky's room.

My husband kicked the door open, gun pointed out, but he dropped it in shock. The robber from the news, laid there, in a pool of his own blood. Even worse, "Spike", the "monster under his bed stood, almost floating, next to Rocky's bed. It was a tall cloaked being, wearing a black hooded cloak, with holes where spikes ripped through. The thing seemed to be made of a black smoke like substance. It was holding the robbers heart in its left hand. Showing the heart to Rocky. He seemed to show no signs of fear. My husband picked up his gun and pointed at Spike "Hey! Do not hurt my son! I shoot"!

"Oh-ho! Don't worry. This man (pointing at the dead criminal) was trying to hurt you son, (It gestured at hand marks on Rocky's neck) not me. That man was Jaxon Smith. A notorious robber and child abuser, as well as the previous owner of this house. He Murdered me In this very room, He was my father. My mother fled in fear, while I vowed my revenge, to only leave when I have earned some form of justice. This action was my sweet justice. Your son, is the sweetest little boy i've ever met. He tells me everything, especially how much he loves his parents. I couldn't let anything bad happen to him. Now I have my freedom to pass on, but I will still be watching over you, in the life above. Thank you". Spike smiled at Rocky, then snapped it's fingers on its right hand. It vanished in a cloud of smoke, taking the criminal's remains with it.

None of the 3 of us slept that night. We stayed home for the next 2 days, just being together, and watching cartoons. Just being in each-others company.

That event was a month ago. Every so often, little gifts have been randomly left around, lost items have shown up, or one of us stands in front of a mirror, Spike sometimes appears and gives a sharp toothed smile, and waves, I always wave back to the one who saved not just my son, but my whole family. Even though It was traumatizing, my son helped convince me that now, Spike is like a guardian angel over us, and I will always be thankful for that.

#creepypasta #horror #horror story #original creepypasta #spooky story #scary story #wattpad

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luchikigroman · 1 year

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Snakeformers?..Beastformers?..Nagaformers?

* The plot takes place after the events described in this story (rolls), which is the canon for my universe.

"Two worlds, one meeting": https://ficbook.net/readfic/12591191

I advise you to read this story first in order to understand a little about what will be partly discussed in this chapter.

* Сюжет происходит после событий, описанных в этой истории (ролки), являющийся каноном для моей вселенной.

"Два мира, одна встреча": https://ficbook.net/readfic/12591191

Советую сперва прочитать эту историю, чтобы немного понимать, о чем будет частично идти речь в этой главе.

A little about snakeformers and people

Understanding the differences is just the beginning. Understanding the differences, you get closer or, on the contrary, move away from someone. Over time, you find common interests. And so respect is born. Trust and bonds come from him.

Sam understood that they were different. He and nagi. Different externally and internally. But this did not prevent him from reaching out to them as his closest and dearest friends.

There were many Nagas and they were all unique. And Sam got in touch with each of them. Yes, that's the connection: it turns out that it works both ways. Now Sam understands each of his alien friends. Although he felt that it was not only for this reason that he was drawn to the snake–formers- there was something else inside him – but for now it was enough for him.

Sam tried to communicate with each of the nagas, and to find time for each and everyone, because the hours spent in company with a certain autonage gave him more unique knowledge about this alien culture.

It is worth talking about each naga separately.

Bisha

Well, Sam spends most of his time with him, and enough has already been said about him: that they are the best friends and that they have the strongest bond compared to everyone else - however, there is still something worth talking about.

For example: after Bi, along with the rest of some nagas, visited another world (or wherever that strange device threw them there), the young naga finally had a voice.

Surprisingly, his first words were complaints about small bipedal bots, which not only spoiled all the fun of a successful hunt for him, but also almost killed him.

Bi then complained for a long time. For a very long time. And he chose the most diverse expressions: from terrestrial to alien. Bee talked about everything: about the taste of those bots, about their size, about their antics, and about the strange similarity between one of the bots and himself. It seemed that this stream of words could not be silenced.

But Sam was listening. For now it was his turn to listen. His best friend was silent for a long time and now he has earned the right to talk.

The guy, holding back happy tears, listened with a smile as the yellow-black nag gradually changed the topic of conversation, finally moving from complaints about that unsuccessful hunt to brighter moments that happened quite recently.

For example: one day, when Bee was once again waiting for Sam from school, peacefully curled up on the school lawn, and turned on the disguise, some stray cat suddenly unexpectedly approached him. Well, he came and came, it's okay. That's just, according to Bee, it was clear that this cat could see through his disguise. At first, the cat so calmly approached the snake-shaper. I sniffed it. I rubbed my head and side against the hard plates of his yellow-black body a couple of times, and then jumped on his tail like a master and pretended to be a loaf of bread. Bee, of course, was blown away by such impudence. However, he did not become indignant, but simply left the small animal lying on him, because what did he care that this beast was comfortable in each other's company anyway.

But what happened next in this story made not only Sam laugh, but also the tailed narrator himself.

According to Bee, half an hour later, a couple more cats joined their company, and they all so brazenly jumped on his tail and curled up into bagels. Then there were two more. Then three more. And more.

As a result, according to Bumblebee, after a couple of hours, there were about thirty cats of different ages lying on and around him. Some even had collars. All of them were sleeping peacefully, or just lying in the company of naga, and he, in turn, did not even know what he was supposed to do in such a situation. Banish it? No way out. Eat it? They're too cute to eat. Leave everything as it is? Yes, perhaps this is the best fit.

As a result, according to Bee, he lay there for several more hours, listening to the loud rumbling of a large pack of cats, waiting for Sam to finally finish his classes. He even managed to get some sleep. And then either something scared the cats, or their local watchman drove them, but as a result, all this sweet idyll soon stopped and all the fuzzies ran away, leaving Naga alone.

Bi then wondered what attracted all these cats to him. He never received an answer.

But Sam knew the answer to that question.

Approaching the naga, the guy with a smile ran his hand over the smooth plates on the naga's body, and then said. "They were attracted to you, Bee, because you are very warm, and cats are attracted to everything warm… And you… You radiate positive energy... kind, if I may say so, and the animals feel it… And it's also safe with you… Safe and quiet... and reliable..."

And at the end, Sam added, trying to hide the blush that appeared from embarrassment.

"And you're my best friend, Bi..., and I love you very much!"

Needless to say, Nag was very moved by these words. He had a couple of drops of washer fluid in front of his eyes.

The young naga bent down, closed his eyes and with a radiant smile rubbed his head against the forehead and shoulders of his little best friend.

Sam responded in kind. At least with his hands, scratching him behind the yellow ear and stroking his sensitive neck with his fingers, gently touching the place with a narrow long scar.

You can talk a lot about Sam and Bee, but one thing will always be clear – they are best friends, and words are not needed for their communication, because all they need is themselves and no one else.

Ratchet

It has already been said about Bee – she and Sam have love and friendship - but what about the partner of the young guy – is he not jealous?

Actually, no: Ratchet is proven naked and understands that Sam and his guardian have a special relationship that should not be destroyed because of some minor jealousy. Besides, even though Bee and Sam are very connected, Ratchet is still the partner, and young nag is only in second place.

Ratchet has noticed for a long time that such a strange triangle of relations has formed between him, Sam and Bumblebee: while Sam is around, he and Bee spend a lot of time together, and already almost meet each other - however, the key link in their pair is the person, and if not for him, then there is no connection and it wouldn't be close.

Yes, that's how it turns out: Bee meets Sam (as friends), Sam meets Ratchet (as partners), and nagi meets each other as colleagues with a common interest.

There were moments when, in such a strange triangle, Bee and Ratchet fell asleep together, and Sam found himself trapped in the middle, wrapped in the warm rings of his friends. In such an awkward situation, it was surprisingly comfortable to sleep, even in the morning you could feel your joints and back crunching, because the nagas in a dream squeeze their rings so tightly that the guy almost starts to lack air in his lungs, and the life-giving blood stops flowing to his hands and feet.

But don't worry about it. Such is the fate of the favorite of all Nagas.

So what is it interesting that Sam is studying while in Ratchet's company when they are alone?

Well, first of all, they... and then it's clear.

Okay, okay. Let's add more details.

So Ratchet wasn't lying when he said he would surround his little partner with care. Yes, that's how it turned out: Sam gets everything and even more.

Sam has already learned what it means to be carried on handles endlessly – it's embarrassing, but it's so nice.

Then it's worth talking about the health of a young guy – here Ratchet showed himself in all his glory: after a lot of very inappropriate and openly harassing procedures, the medic became aware of all the vital signs of the guy, starting from the blood test and ending with the last brain impulses.

After such manipulations, Sam flared up at his partner and did not tell him to approach him anymore, and after a long time he hid from him all over the base.

But Ratchet wasn't going to leave it that way. He knew that he needed to earn the trust of his young boyfriend again, and for this he needed to carry out the most insidious, but effective method that had long been invented on this earth.

Turning into a snake and applying disguise, the green snake went on his "hunt" in search of his escaped prey. Having figured out the guy's place, nag went there, and then waited until his man lost his vigilance as much as possible, after which he attacked sharply. He jumped out from around the corner, ran into the guy, entangled him with his rings and dragged him into his snake lair, called his personal sick bay. There he put his writhing partner on the couch, turned him over on his back and secured his arms and legs, thereby depriving him of the opportunity to escape.

While Sam was openly indignant about what was happening, nag managed to lock the front door from the inside at a fast pace, and then shed his disguise and snake form, once again presenting himself to the man in his usual form. And now came the moment of the sweetest and most desired for both of them.

Taking scissors from the table, nag approached the guy with a cunning smile, and then cut his clothes at the seams in front of his eyes and putting it aside. The guy was left only in his tight and tight swimming trunks.

It was normal for Sam to be half-naked in the company of nagas, because there was nothing to say, and it was not so easy to get rid of saliva and gastric juice, and therefore he often had to strip almost naked in order to save clothes once again.

But this time things were in no other way. Ratchet had other plans, clearly unrelated to food.

Big nag cautiously approached the guy from behind. He bent his body and head to the protruding vertebrae of the guy, and then ... savoringly and very lovingly held his gloss over all the sharp bones of his mini partner, thereby causing a sharp rise in temperature and such a characteristic undisguised groan of pleasure.

But that was just the beginning.

Then Ratchet left a couple of his weightless kisses on the guy's shoulder blades, and then moved on to the main business. Measuring his strength and keeping his predatory nature under control, restrained only by elusive common sense, big nag began to rub the soft tissues on his partner's back and arms.

Yes, Ratchet was giving the guy a massage. What did you think? You know, no one has canceled the laws yet. And it doesn't matter that Ratchet may be older than the local extinct dinosaurs, it still doesn't mean anything to the earth. He has lived his whole life waiting for the end of the war, and therefore he will certainly be able to live another couple of years waiting for his partner to come of age. And don't talk about mutual consent and all that other stuff. Ratchet may be a fearless warrior, but even he won't be able to survive the wrath of Sam's Mom. The compassionate woman made it clear that she was worried about her son, and therefore if Ratchet tries to do something wrong with her son, he may immediately miss his tail or everything else. No, he can tolerate a couple of years: so he will be safe, and Sam will not get into trouble again.

But come on. Massage and kisses with hugs are not all that a guy learns from Ratchet.

Ratchet, as a medic, teaches the guy the peculiarities of the Naga body structure: how they are arranged, what are the internal organs, what are the external ones, and much more.

All this is necessary for the sole purpose: so that in case of danger, not only the nagas could save Sam's life, but the guy himself could provide first aid to his friends. Eg: all nagas have, as Sam calls them, gills. In fact, this row of dark plates located on the sides of the body of each naga carries a very important function – to provide additional cooling of internal organs and mechanisms. Yes, having such a large and mobile body, nagas are prone to the fact that their bodies and tails can overheat greatly when moving, and therefore they have a cooling function built into them from birth. Ventilation of the system can resemble ordinary breathing, which occurs both through the mouth and through the "gills". The nagas are very warm by themselves, as Sam managed to notice, but without this "breath" they have the risk of getting too hot and dying from too much temperature. People have the same thing: if the temperature is not brought down in time, then there is a risk of death.

So: Ratchet taught Sam how to monitor these gills, and what is the normal temperature for any of the nagas. Of course, depending on the size of the snake–shaper itself, these indicators may vary, but the meaning is the same - these gills should always be open so that the body and tail can "breathe", otherwise overheating will happen and the nag will die. Ratchet also explained that in case of an emergency, these gills can be opened manually with any thin sharp object. Of course it will hurt, but if life depends on it, then you can be patient.

Ratchet also told Sam about the differences between nagas. For example, their tails. Sam had noticed more than once that the tails and segments on them were different for each naga: Bee had large segments and they walked in straight rows; Ratchet had large segments identical to his body pattern; Optimus had such tiny segments that they were practically invisible; and Ironhide had real snake scales, more like hundreds of sharp knives fastened together. It turns out that the naga's tail is practically a reflection of the soul of the snake–shaper himself, no matter how unusual it sounds. This means that whatever your soul and spark is, that's what your snake tail will be.

As an example, you can take the Ironhide's tail – it is full of sharp scales, which during attack and combat is able to rise and cut the enemy with hundreds of long sharp blades. This tail is the real pride of the black naga and thanks to it, Ironhide becomes a truly formidable opponent. However, when communicating with his fellows, and even more so with the soft and gentle Sam, the black nag tightly presses its scales to the body so as not to accidentally injure anyone. That's the way Ironhide is – tough on the outside, but very soft on the inside.

Ironhide

And so, what is the relationship between Sam and this terrible warrior.

Well, first of all, it's worth saying that even though naked looks so scary, but with Sam he behaves surprisingly gently and affably, although sometimes he is quite strict.

Ironhide is more like a kind uncle, which will not only make you laugh and treat you with a portion of embarrassing jokes, but also can give you a clear slap on the back of the head, and also reward you with kind and useful advice.

Ironhide, like Bumblebee, was very pleasant to talk to. But unlike his guardian, the stories of the black naga were more instructive or legendary than just sweet conversations.

For example: stories about distant battles that ended in either victories or defeats. Or stories containing a description of the most terrible and terrible desonags, which the former soldier was lucky not to encounter even once. Sam especially remembered the stories about some "Bloody Twins" that are known as one of the most ruthless hired killers that many are afraid to face, not only autonags, but also desonags. Yeah, Sam hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with the huge monster that these twins turn into.

Speaking of which. Fusion is, as Ironhide and Ratchet said, a function of protection and the unification of strength, growth, mass, and mind. This is an extremely complex process, but it can be explained in simple words – several nagas merge into one, which results in one larger snake-former having everything that the participants of the merger contained.

Sometimes two, and sometimes more nagas participate in the merger. The fact is that the more nagas participate in the merger, the more difficult it is to control the resulting large body – this is all due to the fact that even though bodies and minds have merged into one, but for the right task they all must have one common goal, otherwise a large naga will not be able to act properly in battle.

But this fusion technique is not only used for combat. It is also needed for something more intimate and embarrassing – open love and bearing offspring. But Sam asked not to talk about all this yet, because he was not mentally ready for this yet. And there were more important topics to discuss.

For example: what absolutely all the nagas in the world are afraid of.

This something, namely someone, were "Crocodiles". They were so named by people, because they really looked like crocodiles and alligators. These are the most terrible monsters that lived on Cybertron. No naga could cope with them, because these creatures were simply huge and deadly. They are practically the only most terrible enemies of the snake-shapers, since any of this colossus could easily bite the naga in half, and then swallow it whole.

These creatures were not afraid of anything, except for one thing in this world – it was the murderous looks from the Desonags. That's ironic, isn't it? The Desonags had one terrible ability–they, like terrestrial basilisks, could kill anyone with their murderous eyes if anyone looked at them. And that's what all the crocodiles were afraid of. The autonags did not have such a function, and therefore they could become very easy prey for these monsters.

After learning about these monsters, Sam hoped that neither he nor his friends would be lucky enough to encounter them.

The guy then mentally wished that he and his friends would NEVER have to face crocodiles, and even Bloody twins.

Suddenly it will come true, who knows…

Russian version / Русская версия

Понимание различий – это лишь начало. Понимая различия ты сближаешься или наоборот отдаляешься от кого-то. Со временем находишь общие интересы. И так рождается уважение. От него идут доверие и узы.

Сэм понимал, что они разные. Он и наги. Разные внешне и внутренне. Но это не мешало ему тянуться к ним, как к самым близким и дорогим сердцу друзьям.

Нагов было много и все они были уникальны. И с каждым из них у Сэма завязалась связь. Да, та самая связь: оказывается, она действует в обе стороны. Теперь Сэм понимает каждого из своих инопланетных друзей. Хотя он чувствовал, что не только по этой причине его тянет в змееформерам – было что-то еще внутри него – но пока что ему этого было достаточно.

Сэм старался общаться с каждым из нагов, и для всех и каждого находить время, ибо часы, проведенные в компании с определенным автонагом, давали ему больше уникальных знаний об этой инопланетной культуре.

Стоит поговорить о каждом наге по отдельности.

Биша

Что же, Сэм проводит с ним большую часть времени, да и уже было сказано о нем достаточно: что они лучшие друзья и что у них самая крепкая связь, по сравнению со всеми, - однако есть еще, о чем стоит поговорить.

К примеру: после того, как Би, вместе с остальными некоторыми нагами, побывал в другом мире (или куда их там забросило то странное устройство), у молодого нага наконец прорезался голос.

Удивительно, но первыми его словами стали жалобы о мелких двуногих ботах, что мало того, что испортили ему все веселье от успешной охоты, так вдобавок еще и чуть не убили.

Би тогда долго жаловался. Очень долго. И выражения выбирал самые разнообразные: от земных до инопланетных. Би говорил обо всем: о вкусе тех ботов, об их размере, об их выходках, и о странном сходстве между одним из ботов и ним самим. Казалось, что этот поток слов было не заткнуть.

Но Сэм слушал. Ибо теперь настала его очередь слушать. Его лучший друг долго молчал и теперь он заслужил право на разговор.

Парень, сдерживая счастливые слезы, с улыбкой слушал, как желто-черный наг постепенно менял тему разговора, наконец переходя от жалоб, касательно той неудачной охоты, до более светлых моментов, которые произошли совсем недавно.

К примеру: однажды, когда Би в очередной раз ждал Сэма со школы, устроившись мирно калачиком на школьной лужайке, и включив маскировку, к нему вдруг неожиданно подошел какой-то бродячий кот. Ну подошел и подошел, ничего страшного. Вот только, по словам Би, было понятно, что этот кот будто мог видеть сквозь его маскировку. Сперва кот так невозмутимо подошел к змееформеру. Понюхал его. Потерся пару раз головой и боком о жесткие пластинки его желто-черного тела, а после по-хозяйски запрыгнул ему на хвост и притворился буханкой хлеба. Би, конечно, офигел от такой наглости. Однако возмущаться он не стал, а просто оставил маленькое животное лежать на нем, ибо что ему, что этому зверю в любом случае было комфортно в компании друг друга.

Но что случилось дальше в этом рассказе, рассмешило не только Сэма, но и самого хвостатого рассказчика.

По словам Би, спустя пол часа к их компании присоединились еще пара кошек, и все они так нагло запрыгнули на его хвост и свернулись рогаликами. Потом были еще двое. Потом еще трое. И еще.

В результате, по словам Бамблби, спустя пару часов на нем и вокруг него лежало порядком тридцати кошек разных возрастов. У некоторых даже были ошейники. Все они мирно спали, или просто лежали, в компании нага, а тот в свою очередь даже не знал, что ему в такой ситуации положено делать. Прогнать? Не выход. Съесть? Они слишком милые, чтобы их кушать. Оставить все как есть? Да, пожалуй, это лучше всего подходит.

В результате, по словам Би, он так пролежал еще несколько часов, слушая громкое урчание большой своры кошек, ожидая, когда у Сэма наконец закончатся занятия. Он даже успел немного поспать. А потом то ли кошек что-то напугало, то ли их местный ст��рож погнал, но в результате вся эта милая идиллия вскоре прекратилась и все пушистики разбежались, оставив нага одного.

Би тогда стало интересно, что всех этих кошек к нему притянуло. Ответа он так и не получил.

Но Сэм знал ответ на этот вопрос.

Подойдя к нагу, парень с улыбкой провел рукой по гладким пластинкам на теле нага, а после сказал. «Их притянуло к тебе, Би, потому что ты очень теплый, а кошек привлекает все теплое… А еще ты… Ты излучаешь положительную энергетику… Добрую, если можно так сказать, и животные это чувствуют… А еще с тобой безопасно… Безопасно и спокойно… и надежно…»

И в конце Сэм добавил, стараясь скрыть появившейся от смущения румянец.

«И ты мой лучший друг, Би…, и я тебя очень люблю!»

Не нужно говорить, что наг был очень тронут этими словами. У него у самого на глазах выступили пару капель омывателя.

Молодой наг нагнулся, закрыл глаза и с лучезарной улыбкой потерся головой о лоб и плечи своего маленького лучшего друга.

Сэм ответил ему тем же. По крайней мере руками, почесав того за желтым ушком и погладив пальцами чувствительную шею, осторожно касаясь место с узким длинным шрамом.

Про Сэма и Би говорить можно много, но понятно всегда будет одно – они лучшие друзья, и для их общения не нужны слова, ибо все что им нужно – это они сами и больше никого.

Рэтчет

Про Би уже было сказано – у них с Сэмом любовь и дружа, - но что касаемо именно партнера молодого парня – он не ревнует?

Вообще-то нет: Рэтчет проверенный наг и понимает, что у Сэма с его опекуном особые отношения, которые не стоит разрушать из-за какой-то незначительной ревности. К тому же, пусть Би и Сэм очень связаны, но все-таки партнером выступает именно Рэтчет, а молодой наг всего лишь на втором месте.

Рэтчет уже давно заметил, что между ним, Сэмом и Бамблби образовался такой странный треугольник отношений: пока Сэм рядом, он и Би много времени проводят вместе, и уже чуть ли не встречаются друг с другом, - однако ключевым звеном в их паре выступает именно человек, и если бы не он, то никакой связи и близко бы не было.

Да, так и выходит: Би встречается с Сэмом (как друзья), Сэм встречается с Рэтчетом (как партнеры), а наги встречаются друг с другом как коллеги с общим интересом.

Были моменты, когда в таком странном треугольнике Би и Рэтчет засыпали вместе, а Сэм оказывался зажат посередине, завернутый в теплые кольца своих друзей. В такой неловкой ситуации было удивительно удобно спать, пусть и с утра можно было прочувствовать, как хрустят твоя суставы и спина, ибо наги во сне так сжимают свои кольца, что парню почти начинает не хватать воздуха в легких, а к его рукам и ногам перестает поступать живительная кровь.

Но не стоит об этом. Такова уж судьба любимчика всех нагов.

Так что же интересно Сэм изучает, находясь в компании Рэтчета, когда они одни?

Ну, во-первых, они… а дальше и так понятно.

Ладно, ладно. Добавим подробностей.

Итак, Рэтчет не врал, когда говорил, что окружит своего маленького партнера заботой. Да, так и вышло: Сэм получает все и даже больше.

Сэм уже познал, что значит, когда тебя без конца носят на ручках – это смущающе, но это так приятно.

Затем стоит поговорить о здоровье юного парня – тут Рэтчет показал себя во всей красе: спустя множество очень неуместных и открыто домогательных процедур медику стали известны все жизненные показатели парня, начиная от анализа крови и заканчивая последними мозговыми импульсами.

После таких манипуляций Сэм вспылил на своего партнера и не велел больше к себе приближаться, а после долго еще прятался от него по всей базе.

Но Рэтчет не собирался бросать все таким образом. Он знал, что нужно снова заслужить доверие его юного парня, а для этого нужно провести самый коварный, но действенный метод, который уже давно был придумал на этой земле.

Обратившись змеей и применив маскировку, зеленый змей отправился на свою «охоту» в поисках своей сбежавшей добычи. Вычислив место парня, наг направился туда, а после подождал, пока его человек максимально потеряет бдительность, после чего резко напал. Он выскочил из-за угла, налетел на парня, опутал его своими кольцами утащил в свое змеиное логово, именуемое его личным медотсеком. Там он положил своего извивающегося партнера на кушетку, перевернул на спину и закрепил по рукам и ногам, тем самым лишая того возможности к побегу.

Пока Сэм открыто возмущался происходящим, наг успел в быстром темпе запереть входную дверь изнутри, а после сбросить свою маскировку и змеиную форму, вновь представ перед человеком в своем привычном виде. И вот настал момент самого сладкого и желанного для них обоих.

Взяв со стола ножницы, наг с коварной улыбкой подошел к парню, а после у него на глазах разрезал по швам его одежду и убирая ее в сторону. Парень остался только в своих узких и обтягивающих плавках.

Быть полу раздетым в компании нагов для Сэма было нормально, ибо что тут сказать, а от слюней и желудочного сока так просто было не избавиться, а потому часто приходилось раздеваться почти что догола, чтобы лишний раз сберечь одежду.

Но в этот раз тут дела обстояли в не ком другом плане. У Рэтчета были другие планы, явно несвязанные с едой.

Большой наг осторожно подошел к парню со спины. Нагнул свое тело и голову к выпирающим позвонкам парня, а после… смачно и очень любвеобильно провел своей глоссой по всем остреньким косточкам своего мини партнёра, вызывая тем самым у того резкое поднятие температуры и такой характерный нескрываемый стон удовольствия.

Но это было еще только начало.

Затем Рэтчет оставил на лопатках парня пару своих невесомых поцелуев, а после перешел к основному делу. Измеряя силу и держа под контролем свою хищную натуру, сдерживаемую лишь ускользающим здравым смыслом, большой наг приступил к растиранию мягких тканей на спине и руках своего партнера.

Да, Рэтчет делал парню массаж. А вы что подумали? Законы знаете ли еще никто не отменял. И все равно, что Рэтчет может быть старше местных вымерших динозавров, это еще ничего не значит для земли. Он в ожидании конца войны прожил всю свою жизнь, а потому прожить еще пару лет в ожидании совершеннолетия своего партнера он уж точно сможет. И не надо говорить про обоюдное согласие и все такое прочие. Рэтчет может быть и бесстрашный воин, но даже он не сможет пережить гнев Мамы Сэма. Сердобольная женщина ясно дала понять, что переживает за своего сына, а потому если Рэтчет попытается сделать что-то, не-то с ее сыном, то тут же может недосчитаться своего хвоста или всего остального. Нет уж, пару лет он потерпеть сможет: так и он цел будет, и Сэм в лишний раз в передрягу не втянется.

Но да ладно. Массаж и поцелуи с обнимашками – это еще не все, чему парень учится у Рэтчета.

Рэтчет, как медик, обучает парня особенностям строения тела нагов: как они устроены, какие есть внутренние органы, какие внешние, и о многом другом.

Все это нужно с единственной целью: чтобы в случае опасности не только наги могли бы спасти Сэму жизнь, но и сам парень мог бы оказать первую помощь своим друзьям.

К примеру: у всех нагов есть, как Сэм их называет, жабры. На самом деле, этот ряд темных пластин, расположенный на боках корпуса каждого нага несет в себе очень важную функцию – обеспечивать дополнительное охлаждение внутренних органов и механизмов. Да, имея такое большое и подвижное тело, наги склонны к тому, что их корпуса и хвосты могут сильно перегреваться при передвижении, и потому в них встроена с рождения функция охлаждения. Вентилирование системы может напоминать собой обыкновенное дыхание, которое происходит как через рот, так и через «жабры». Наги очень теплые сами по себе, как Сэм это успел заметить, но без этого «дыхания» они имеют риск слишком раскалиться и погибнуть от слишком большой температуры. У людей так же: если вовремя не сбить температуру, то есть риск погибнуть.

Так вот: Рэтчет учил Сэма, как следить за этими жабрами, и какая нормальная температура для любого из нагов. Конечно, в зависимости от размеров самого змееформера эти показатели могут меняться, но смысл один – эти жабры должны всегда быть открытыми, чтобы тело и хвост могли «дышать», а иначе случиться перегрев и наг погибнет. Рэтчет так же объяснил, что в случаи экстренной ситуации эти жабры можно открыть вручную любым тонким острым предметом. Конечно это будет больно, но если от этого будет зависеть жизнь, то можно и потерпеть.

Еще Рэтчет рассказывал Сэму о различиях между нагами. К примеру, их хвосты. Сэм уже не раз замечал, что хвосты и сегменты на них у каждого нага различались: у Би были крупные с��гменты и шли они ровными рядами; у Рэтчета это были большие сегменты идентичные его узору на теле; у Оптимуса это были такие крошечные сегментики, что их было практически не видно; а у Айронхайда это была настоящая змеиная чешуя, больше напоминающая собой сотни острых ножей, скрепленных вместе. Оказывается, что хвост нага – это практически отражение души самого змееформера, как бы это необычно не звучало. Это значит, что какова твоя душа и искра, таким и будет твой змеиный хвост.

Как пример можно взять хвост Айронхайда – он полон острой чешуи, которая во время атаки и боя способна подниматься и резать противника сотнями длинных острых лезвий. Этот хвост настоящая гордость черного нага и благодаря ему Айронхайд становиться поистине грозным противником. Однако при общении со своими собратьями, и уж тем более с мягким и нежным Сэмом, черный наг плотно прижимает свою чешую к телу, чтобы ненароком никого не поранить. Таков уж Айронхайд – жесткий снаружи, но очень мягкий внутри.

Айронхайд

И так, каковы же отношения между Сэмом и этим страшным воякой.

Ну, во-первых, стоит сказать, что пусть наг и выглядит так страшно, но с Сэмом он ведет себя на удивление мягко и приветливо, хоть иногда и бывает довольно строгим.

Айронхайд больше напоминает собой доброго дядю, что не только приголубит и угостит порцией смущающих шуток, но еще и может дать вразумительного подзатыльника, а еще наградить добрым и полезным советом.

С Айронхайдом, как и с Бамблби, было очень приятно разговаривать. Но в отличии от его опекуна, рассказы черного нага были больше поучительными или легендарными, нежели просто милыми беседами.

К примеру: рассказы о далеких сражениях, которые окончились либо победами, либо поражениями. Или истории, содержащие в себе описание наиболее жутких и страшных десонагов, с которыми былому вояке посчастливилось не столкнуться еще ни разу. Особенно Сэму запомнились истории о неких «Кровавых близнецах», что известны, как одни из самых безжалостных наемных убийц, с которыми боятся столкнуться многие, не только автонаги, но и десонаги. Да уж, Сэм надеялся, что и ему не придется иметь дело с огромным монстром, в которого и превращаются эти близнецы.

Кстати об этом. Слияние – это, как рассказывали Айронхайд и Рэтчет, является функцией защиты и объединением силы, роста, массы, и разума. Это крайне сложный процесс, но объяснить его можно простыми словами – несколько нагов сливаются в одного, от чего получается один более крупный змееформер, имеющий в себе все, что содержали в себе участники слияния.

Иногда в слиянии участвуют двое, а иногда и больше нагов. Дело в том, что чем больше нагов участвуют в слиянии, тем труднее управлять получившимся большим телом – это все из-за того, что пусть тела и разумы слились в одно целое, но для правильной задачи они все должны иметь одну общую цель, а иначе большой наг не сможет действовать как надо в бою.

Но не только для боя используется эта техника слияния. Еще она нужна для более сокровенного и смущающего – открытой любви и вынашиванию потомства. Но обо всем об этом Сэм попросил пока не рассказывать, ибо морально был пока не готов к этому. Да и были более важные темы для обсуждения.

К примеру: чего боятся абсолютно все наги в мире.

Этим чем-то, а именно кем-то, были «Крокодилы». Их так назвали люди, поскольку они действительно были похожи внешне на крокодилов и аллигаторов. Это самые страшные чудовища, которые жили на Кибертроне. С ними не мог справиться ни один наг, ибо эти твари были просто огромными и смертоносными. Они являются практически единственными самыми страшными врагами змееформеров, поскольку любая эта махина могла с легкость перекусить нага пополам, а после целиком проглотить.

Эти твари ничего не боялись, кроме одной вещи в этом мире – это убийственных взглядов со стороны десонагов. Вот ведь ирония, правда? У десонагов была одна жуткая способность – они подобно земным василискам могли убивать любого при помощи своих убийственных глаз, стоило кому-либо на них посмотреть. И именно этого боялись все крокодилы. У автонагов такой функции не было, а потому они могли стать очень легкой добычей для этих чудовищ.

Узнав об этих монстрах, Сэм надеялся, что ни ему, ни его друзьям не посчастливиться сними столкнуться.

Парень тогда мысленно пожелал, чтобы ему и его друзьям НИКОГДА бы ни пришлось сталкиваться с крокодилами, а еще с Кровавыми близнецами.

Вдруг сбудется, кто знает…

#snakeformers #nagaformer #transformers #Ironhide #ratchet #bumblebee #sam #fanfic #my stories

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celamoon · 3 years

Text

Summary: Saiki isn’t supposed to have regrets, but he thinks that letting you wither away from him was his worst mistake.

Warnings: Hanahaki, Mild mention of Star Tears, angst

You first talked to Saiki in middle school. You had been classmates with him since kindergarten, moving almost always at the same time he did. You wondered if it was the universe telling you to befriend the boy.

Your only early memory of the boy was that he was the undefeated Rock Paper Scissors champion of kindergarten. He grew to be antisocial later on in middle school but you loved his hair clips so you asked him where he bought them. He had looked at you incredulously and had told you he had them custom-made. You wouldn’t stop pestering him about them afterward, especially since you caught him red-handed burning a sheet of paper.

“Is that…”

‘Don’t you dare tell ANYONE’

“Only if you finally tell me where you bought your hairclips”

Saiki looked 100% done with you and you had stuck with him ever since.

You noticed a handful of things about it Saiki after you started being friends with him. You noticed that his eyes light up whenever he was eating coffee jelly. You noticed how despite the fact that he claimed his friends were nuisances, he still hung around them. You noticed how his eyes were a certain shade of purple, and how he was much more caring than he claimed himself to be.

You had stuck around him despite knowing that he could read minds, and he had given you a germanium ring in your first year of high school, claiming that it was so that he wouldn’t hear your thoughts. You got a bit of privacy after that, and you started to wear the ring out of habit in your high school years.

The first issue came in your second year of high school. Saiki had managed to keep himself on the down-low so far, and you had stuck around with him as his self-proclaimed best friend. Nendo was his pal after all. He had caught the attention of Teruhashi, the school’s goddess. Saiki had told you that she was far from how she seemed, but you didn’t mind that much. She was pretty, and you didn’t mind at first.

Then came the petals. At first, you thought you ate something that had petals inside them, but it became clear when you wouldn’t stop throwing them up. You had caught Hanahaki, and you were in love with your best friend. You hid them well, and you never coughed despite how much Teruhashi was trying to catch Saiki’s attention at school.

The first time you weren’t able to hold it in was during PE. Teruhashi had made a move on Saiki, and he didn’t push her away. You had to excuse yourself to the bathroom so that you could let your lungs breathe properly. It was a bigger batch than usual, and you knew that didn’t mean anything good for you.

You went back to PE as if you hadn’t just thrown up an entire basket of flower petals.

The second time came when Teruhashi visited Saiki’s family for cooking lessons. It had become a tradition for you to visit Saiki every weekend. You had walked in, almost missing the familiar tuff of blue hair. You greeted the family, and you set the coffee jelly down on the table. Teruhashi had asked you if you were into anyone and you had managed to avoid her questions while doing Saiki’s suspicions at the same time. When they turned the tv on you felt your lungs collapse and you rushed to their bathroom to let the petals flow. They were stained with blood that time.

The third time came when you visited the shrine with the two Saiki brothers and Teruhashi. You stayed with Kuusuke after Kusuo and Teruhashi managed to dodge the influx of hate, and you had started to cough violently after Kusuo dragged Teruhashi away. Kuusuke caught you and you threw up a bud before him. His eyes widened and you had brushed it off as a magic trick you were preparing. Kuusuke didn’t believe you, but he let you off that time.

The fourth time came when Teruhashi asked Saiki out on a date for summer. You had been fine with the flowers so far, and the petals were still rather small other than that one bud from the shrine visit. But you felt your stomach lurch when you saw Teruhashi asking Saiki out on a date over summer. You ran to the bathroom, missing the look of concern on everyone’s face. You threw up premature flower blossoms that time. When you got back, you told them that you had a bad lunch.

Kuusuke called you the day of the date, and he had taken you out for a drive. When he passed the amusement park and brought you in, you felt your lungs tighten and you started coughing up half bloomed flowers. That confirmed Kuusuke’s suspicions. He brought you to his lab to run a few tests, and after the x-ray scan, he was completely sure that you had Hanahaki. He urged you to make a move on his brother.

“You can’t keep this to yourself forever,”

“I can,”

“No you can’t y/n, you’re going to need the surgery unless you confess,”

“Then how about this…”

You had made a bet with Kuusuke instead, if Kusuo found out about your petals first, then you would admit defeat and you would confess to Kusuo, if Kusuo made a move on Teruhashi first, then Kuusuke would fund your surgery so that you could get rid of those godforsaken feelings for the psychic. He agreed, sure that his brother wouldn’t be able to miss the fact that his own best friend was throwing up petals. You prayed secretly that Kuusuke would win the bet so that you could live out your fantasy.

You found that it was hard pretending to be ok, you hadn’t stopped coughing up flowers since summer, and that new transfer student who was rather close with Saiki wasn’t helping. Aiura was her name. She wasn’t as pretty as Teruhashi, but she was certainly different from the others. You had stopped talking as much as before, telling everyone that you had a rather bad cold since school started.

You had caught her clinging onto Kusuo like his lover one day after school. You were waiting for him to finish school so that you two could walk home together, but you had caught him with Aiura instead. The look on his face had you make a double-take before you confirmed it. You watched as she talked about their love life with the girl with pigtails, and you had listened as she talked about how active they were. You felt the flowers climb up your throat and had run away before anything else could happen.

The final straw came when Teruhashi was noticing the differences for everyone. She had spent the entire night memorizing everyone’s names accord to Kusuo, and you had listened to him narrate the whole situation. Kusuo talked about her quite a bit by now. You weren’t even surprised anymore when he brought her up. You parted ways with him to deal with your club’s paperwork at the office and the next sight was not one to be expected.

You had won the bet. You were heading outside of your clubroom when you had saw Saiki princess carry Teruhashi to the nurse’s office with your very own two eyes. You had won the bet even though you prayed that you wouldn’t. You had won the bet and that meant you needed to get the surgery. You prayed you wouldn’t win, yet it seemed that god liked Teruhashi more as usual. You ringed Kuusuke in the middle of the school day because of it.

“Hey, Kuusuke?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I won the bet…”

Kuusuke, as promised, sent the money for the surgery to your account. Now it was up to you whether or not you wanted the surgery. You knew you did, but a part of you desperately wished that Saiki would love you back so that you didn’t need to get the surgery. You were throwing up full-on flowers by now. No longer the buds you suffered from, no longer the premature flower blossoms you threw up once. You had little to no time unless you confessed to Saiki soon.

Then you remembered that he had let out an ‘offu’ at Teruhashi. You had heard it while you were nodding at him in class. It was loud, in fact, Teruhashi heard it but she thought she was hallucinating. You remember the sound of your own heart breaking when you heard it, you felt like the world had crashed down on you. It had happened a while back, but now you were completely sure about it. Saiki was in love with Teruhashi, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

The surgery was half a success, half a failure. Your feelings had gone away for Kusuo as promised, but you lost your voice because of it. You weren’t able to speak anymore; you couldn’t talk like you used to. You went to school with tears in your eyes because of it. The first person to notice was Kuboyasu, who greeted you but when you didn’t greet him back, he asked if your throat hurt. You burst into tears because of it.

The group gathered around you at the sight of you in tears. You never showed strong emotion around them, you only helped them with their issues and bottled your own up. You let out small hiccups and Nendou was surprisingly the first one to point out how you didn’t have a voice. You typed on your phone in tears, and you held it up for everyone to see.

‘I lost my voice permanently’

The group was in shambles afterward. Kaidou was asking how, Kuboyasu offered to beat up the person who caused it, Yumehara pulled you in for a hug. The group wanted to know, and you still wore your ring so Saiki wasn’t able to read your mind. You typed that you had gotten surgery for your throat since you caught a sickness and the surgery was a success at the cost of your voice box. You didn't give them any more information after that.

Toritsuka offered to summon a spirit to hopefully help you be able to speak again but you turned him down. Aiura tried finding out with her glass ball but it didn’t work either. Kaidou pushed you for further details. You didn’t tell anyone that the surgery was for Hanahaki. Nendou offered you ramen, in hopes that it would cheer you up, you shook your head no. Not that day at least.

Saiki was in shambles at the news, how had you even lost your voice to begin with? You hadn’t done anything and unless you got surgery within the span of a weekend, you weren’t able to have lost your voice. He reaches for your hand and tries to take the ring off. You ripped your hand away with a sad smile, signing him it’s ok, that it wasn’t that important anyway. Saiki was still bothered by it.

Akechi was surprisingly the person Saiki resided in for help. He was always able to figure things out even without it being written fully for him. Akechi didn’t even bat an eye when Saiki approached him. He had actually expected it. Saiki stood there in shock as Akechi explained about your sickness.

“She got surgery for Hanahaki obviously. She didn’t have a terminal disease or else she would’ve been hospitalized for longer than that. The fact that she had Hanahaki affect her throat as well only means that she was severely affected by the flowers. I think I saw her throw up coffee flower petals once. She was throwing up behind the school while we were picking sweet potatoes with the class. She made me swear to not tell anyone but since she got the surgery I assume that she’s ok with people knowing now,” Akechi rambled, and Saiki lost himself at coffee flower petals. She had been in love with him, how dumb could be he? He was a psychic for goodness sake!

You started carrying around a tablet to communicate with people better. You always wrote down comments about certain things, and you always laughed along with everyone. It was like nothing had ever happened. You acted like nothing had ever happened and Saiki hated that.

Saiki was bothered and you figured out quicker than he liked to admit. You knew him way too well. You had walked up to him after school one day asking if he was ok. He promised you he was, but you didn’t believe him. So you dragged him up to the room and forced him to talk to you about what was bothering him. He asked you the only question on his mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You had paused. He had spoken to you with his actual voice and you frowned.

‘Tell you about what?’

Saiki looked exasperated.

“About the flowers, the Hanahaki, the surgery. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blinked at him, shrugging before writing down your response.

‘It didn’t seem important’

You figured that Akechi had told him. Saiki groaned.

“I think my best friend throwing up flower petals is very important thank you very much”

‘It’s not like It matters anymore. The feelings and flowers are gone'

“But your voice-“

The loud noise of a digital pen was heard on the rooftop. The silence was suffocating.

‘But this, but that, it’s all over anyway it’s not like it’s important anymore’

Saiki chooses his next words carefully.

“Were you in love with me?”

You pause and nod your head enthusiastically. Saiki feels his own heart break.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

‘You liked Teruhashi. All the signs pointed to it and I got Kuusuke to pay for my surgery’

Saiki’s shoulders droop. It felt like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reaches for you, and you take a step back. He wants you to know he loved you too, he wants to show you how much he liked you, how much he was actually in love with you.

He finds it’s too late however when you shrink away from the touch you used to cherish and love. You excuse yourself from the rooftop to meet up with Nendou and the others for your daily after-school ramen. Saiki watches your figure escape his sight. The feeling tastes bitter to him. It tasted like that cup of dark coffee he had once watched you down after pulling an all-nighter.

Saiki isn’t supposed to have regrets, but he thinks that letting you wither away from him was his worst mistake. He swears he hears the twinkling of stars when he starts crying. Perhaps this was the universe’s way of paying him back.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki k #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo no psi nan #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k.#angst #hanahaki #mention of star tears #I did it I wrote the fic guys

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