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imloyaltoscoups · 6 days

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you're safe | kim mingyu ft jeon wonwoo | part 1

It's 10 am, and you're still on your dorm bed, lost in the comfort of your blankets as you stare at your phone screen, the weight of your decision feels heavy. You've been contemplating this for weeks, but finally, you've made up your mind to end things with Mingyu. Typing out the message to Wonwoo feels surreal, yet necessary. He's been your rock through thick and thin, even if life has taken you on different paths.

The vibration of your phone breaks the silence, and you see Wonwoo's reply. His words bring a mix of comfort and validation. "You mean that giant dog, your schoolmate?" he asks, and you can almost hear the concern in his voice through the text. Your thumbs move across the screen as you reply, "Who else? I've been seeing him for three years."

The familiarity of Wonwoo's understanding fills you with a sense of relief. "I know, I've had my doubts about him too," he responds, and you can't help but feel grateful for his unwavering support. Wonwoo's been there through it all, even when distance and time tried to pull you apart.

Reflecting on the past, you remember the strain Mingyu's jealousy put on your friendship with Wonu. It wasn't easy, navigating between your boyfriend's insecurities and your lifelong bond with your best friend. But now, with Wonwoo's reassurance, you feel a sense of clarity. Maybe it's time to prioritize your own happiness and well-being.

You think back to all the times Mingyu's behavior raised red flags. His overly friendly interactions with other girls, the way he'd discourage you from talking to Wonwoo, citing baseless concerns about guys and girls being friends. It's become exhausting trying to decipher whether his actions stem from genuine care or something more sinister.

Wonwoo's agreement brings back memories of that painful period when you distanced yourself from him under your boyfriend's influence. It's a reminder of how toxic Mingyu's controlling behavior has been for your relationships outside of him. Maybe it's time to reclaim that lost connection with Wonu, to rebuild what was once a cornerstone of your support system.

As you lay there, your thoughts swirling, you can't help but dwell on Mingyu's positive qualities. He's been a pillar of support through thick and thin, always there to lend a helping hand or a listening ear. His kindness, his patience, his unwavering presence – they're all reasons why you fell for him in the first place. He also helped you with your studies that's a bonus points from him.

But amidst the warmth of his affection, there's a nagging doubt that refuses to be ignored. The way he interacts with other girls, the way he brushes off your concerns, the way he restricts your friendships – they're all red flags waving in the back of your mind.

You shake your head, trying to push away the doubts and uncertainties that threaten to consume you. Maybe you're just overreacting, letting your insecurities get the best of you. After all, Mingyu has never given you a reason to doubt him before.

But then again, there's that gut feeling, that sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach that tells you something isn't right. You've always been intuitive, able to sense when things are unsual, and right now, things definitely feel off.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice the soft buzz of your phone until it draws your attention back to the present. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Wonwoo, his words a reminder of the support and understanding he's always offered.

With a sigh, you realize that you can't keep brushing aside your concerns, pretending that everything is fine when it clearly isn't. You owe it to yourself to trust your instincts, to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means facing the uncomfortable truth.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the keys as you prepare to confront your long time boyfriend and finally address the doubts that have been eating away at you. It's not going to be easy, but it's time to stop second-guessing yourself and start listening to that inner voice that's been trying to tell you something all along.

As you wait for his response, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and prepare for your own classes. You quickly gather your books and notes, double-checking that you have everything you need for the day ahead.

With a final glance at your phone, you see Mingyu's reply, a simple acknowledgment of your message that you'll be the one picking him up after his class. It's not much, but it's enough to reassure you that he's on board with the plan.

Rushing out of your lecture hall, you quickly pack your things and make your way outside your building. Your heart races with anticipation as you check your watch, knowing that his class is likely finished by now.

As you navigate through the lobby of Mingyu's architecture building, your eyes catch sight of a couple locked in a passionate embrace near a gap in the wall. At first, a flicker of recognition crosses your mind, the tall silhouette triggering a momentary sense of alarm.

But then you shake your head, reminding yourself that there are plenty of tall guys on campus besides Mingyu. You try to push the thought aside, focusing instead on fetching your boyfriend from class.

However, despite your efforts to ignore them, your instincts urge you to confront the couple. Taking a deep breath, you approach them, your heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, it's not him that was entangled with the girl in the embrace. Relief floods through you, quickly followed by a pang of guilt for assuming the worst.

"Sorry to interrupt," you say, your voice laced with sincerity as you apologize to the couple for intruding on their moment.

With a polite nod, you swiftly make your exit, the encounter serving as a reminder to trust your instincts but also not to jump to conclusions too quickly.

But as you reach Mingyu's lecture hall and spot him waiting outside, a warm smile on his face as he sees you approach, those doubts fade into the background. You push aside the lingering unease, choosing to focus on the present moment and the person standing in front of you.

"Hey," Mingyu greets you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and you return the embrace, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you in his familiar arms.

"Hey," you reply, forcing a smile as you try to shake off the lingering unease from earlier. "Ready to go?"

He nods, as you two step outside the building, the weight of your decision to break up hangs heavy in the air. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and finally broach the topic.

"Mingyu, we need to talk," you begin, your voice trembling slightly.

His eyes widen in surprise, and you can see the beginning of tears forming in his eyes. "Did I… Did I do something wrong?" he asks, his voice cracking with emotion.

You notice the curious glances from passersby and quickly take his hand, leading him to a more secluded spot nearby. Cupping his face gently in your hands, you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of his vulnerability. He isn't the type to get emotional easily, and seeing him like this only adds to your turmoil.

"I just… I don't think we should be together anymore," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Why? Why would you say that?" he responds, his voice desperate and pleading. "I would never cheat on you. You're the only girl I have eyes for."

Your heart aches at his words, but you can't shake the feeling of unease that has been gnawing at you. "It's not about that," you explain, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's about the other girls, the ones who keep flirting with you, and you just let them."

Mingyu's expression darkens, hurt flashing in his eyes. "Don't you trust me?" he asks, his voice tinged with disappointment.

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I… I don't know," you admit, feeling a knot form in your stomach.

His gaze softens, and he reaches out to take your hand. "Look, if it bothers you that much, I'll stop talking to other girls," he offers, sincerity lacing his words. "Even though I know you and your 'boy' friend have started talking again."

You bristle at the mention of Wonwoo, but you quickly defend yourself. "Won and I are just friends, Gyu. Nothing more, nothing less."

He furrows his brow, considering your words. "But Wonwoo never had a girlfriend, right?" he asks, a hint of accusation in his tone.

You nod, feeling a sense of unease settle over you once again. "That's beside the point," you say, trying to redirect the conversation back to the issue at hand. "What about the girls who keep throwing themselves at you, Mingyu? And you just let them…"

Mingyu's expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't realize how much it was bothering you," he says, his voice filled with remorse. "But I promise, from now on, it'll just be you and me. No more distractions, no more doubts."

Feeling a mix of relief and guilt, you can't help but apologize to Mingyu, realizing that perhaps you've been overanalyzing things. His gentle demeanor and golden retriever-like friendliness have always been one of his endearing qualities, and maybe you've let your insecurities get the best of you.

"I'm sorry, love," you say softly, meeting his gaze with a sense of regret. "I think I've been overthinking things. I know you're just naturally friendly, and I shouldn't have let it get to me."

Mingyu's expression softens, and he leans in to give you a soft peck on the lips. "It's okay, love," he reassures you, his voice warm and comforting. "You don't need to worry about these things. I'm here for you, always."

Feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders, you return his kiss with a grateful smile. Maybe you were letting your insecurities get the best of you.

As Mingyu drops you off at your dorm, he suggests going out together on the weekend, and you agree with a smile. "That sounds great," you say, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

You give him a tight hug, savoring the warmth of his embrace, before leaning in to give him a goodbye kiss. "Thanks for understanding," you say softly, feeling grateful for his patience and reassurance.

Mingyu returns the hug with equal warmth, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Of course, Love. I'll see you soon," he says, his voice filled with affection as he reluctantly pulls away and heads off.

As you watch him go, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Despite the doubts and misunderstandings, you know that your relationship with Mingyu is stronger than ever.

Once he's out of sight, you pull out your phone and quickly text Wonwoo, letting him know that the misunderstanding has been resolved. "Hey Wonu, just wanted to let you know that Gyu and I talked things out. Everything's fine now. Thank youuu," you type out, feeling grateful for his understanding and friendship.

ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ

Mingyu's POV

As Mingyu steps out of Y/N's dorm building, a sense of relief washes over him. He takes a deep breath, feeling grateful that they were able to resolve their misunderstanding. He then pulls out his phone, opening his group chat with his friends, feeling the need to share his thoughts.

"Y/N's instincts are scary accurate," he types out, his fingers tapping out the message quickly.

His friends respond almost immediately, curious about what happened. "Uh oh, did you get caught?" Minghao teases, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

Dokyeom added, "Seriously, if you got caught, it would've been game over."

Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head as he types out his reply. "Nope, all good on my end," he responds, feeling a sense of satisfaction at successfully navigating the conversation with Y/N.

As he walks, he runs a hand through his hair, feeling a surge of confidence coursing through him. Mingyu prides himself on his ability to charm and manipulate situations to his advantage, and tonight was no different.

Feeling a buzz from his phone, he glances down to see his friends' responses. Dokyeom jokes about him meeting up with some girl, but Mingyu quickly sets the record straight.

"Nah, different plans tonight," he replies, keeping his tone casual as he continues on his way.

As he navigates the bustling campus, Mingyu can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his ability to play the game. Pretending to be vulnerable, shedding a few crocodile tears – it's all just another day in the life of Kim Mingyu.

With a smirk, he sends one final message to the group chat, informing his friends that he'll be radio silent until midnight. With that, he pockets his phone and heads off to meet the girl who's invited him to join her. After all, when you're as charming and charismatic as he is, it's all just a game.

part 2, part 3

author's note: hi there, you reached the end. congratulations. i think you guys already know what kind of "genre i want" to write, hahaha. if you're wandering if someone hurt me. nope, no one.🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻. am i enjoying this? yes, yes i am. this is one of the mini series i'll be posting.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

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tcwmatchmakingau · 9 months

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The Beauty In All, Part Two

Editor's note: written by @deejadabbles Pairing: Echo x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice- still shame on you, don't take advantage of my kindness! After so many times of falling for people who mock and manipulate your kind nature, you thought that love, true love, was simply not in the cards for you. Thankfully, Right to Love is here to make sure you and a lucky ARC trooper get your happy ending together. A.N: For some clarity: in my take on this AU, Palps had his "unfortunate accident" pretty late into the og clone wars timeline, so Echo was still rescued from the techno union and was rolling with the bad batch for awhile. And of course, since this is an everyone lives AU too, Tup's chip never activated so that whole thing never went down, Everyone lives, everyone's rescued, happy endings all around! Also....if you guys read this chapter closely, you'll see references to more stories I have planned for this AU *wink wink* Lastly, Daria is @blueink-bluesoul 's wonderful OC, who you will find in other works of this AU! Word Count: 2,742

Warnings: Mentions and discussions of ableism

Part One

With all her appointments taken care of for the day, Maura sat at her desk and got to work with the stack of profiles under her care. With her favorite playlist starting in the background and a shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders, she started sorting today’s new clients. She used her own little “personality-type” system to highlight and sort each of them, which made it easier to draw up a short list of possible matches for each client, which were then looked into deeper from there.

She had gotten this process down to a nice, practiced rhythm and had just begun drawing up the ‘maybe-matches’ for the first new client, when there was a knock on her door. As usual, she gave a distracted noise to whoever was on the other side, and most people at RTL would know it meant a cheerful, “come in”.

“I come bearing gifts,” came an almost light tone, and Maura didn’t have to look up from her desk unit to know it was Kix.

Still, because it was Kix, she tore herself away from her work and smiled up at him. He was holding two togo cups in his hands, both bearing the logo of the tapcaf down the street that many at the matchmaking service frequented nowadays.

Kix was giving his most charming smile as he handed the cup to her, “One hot cocoa, with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle. And yes, hot cocoa, because I know that, even if you like it, caf this late in the day makes you stay up all night.”

His smile was very infectious, not that she needed much reason to smile, but it was easy around a man like Kix. “You are the actual sweetest,” she said as she took the cup, waiting till she removed the lid and swiped some of the cream before adding, “even if it is just a bribe.”

Kix didn’t even flinch. He was still smiling as he put a hand over his heart, “But I bring you drinks all the time without ulterior motives.”

Maura leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes playfully at the medic, “In the morning, yes, not in the afternoon. Come on, Kix, out with it.”

He at least had the decency to look like he was thinking his answer over, even though she knew he had whatever he wanted to say planned down to a T. Finally he sank into her chair, instantly grabbing the tooka plushy and holding it aloft. “So, I had a lovely chat with one of today’s clients in the waiting room and I was thinking that they would be perfect for…you know who,” he moved the tooka’s head as if it agreed with him. Dang it, he was bringing out all the cute charm today

Honestly, she should have expected this, especially since she knew exactly who he was talking about…and that the thought crossed her mind too. How could it not? You were charming and sweet and obviously cared deeply about people, especially clones. One of her previous clients, Tiio, had sent her a long, detailed letter of recommendation the moment you signed up for RTL. Everyone knew about the whole flower crown event now and, according to Daria, even Fox was fond of you and the way you treated his brothers.

And, as for ‘you know who’, Maura had met the stubborn brother in question a few times now, when Kix invited her along to 79s. Even when she wasn’t working, Maura couldn’t help but to read people, to think about and observe them, and that man may benefit from someone like you.

But, in the end, none of that mattered. Not until Echo came to RTL himself.

“Kix,” it was undoubtedly a warning, though it had no real teeth since she knew he was a good enough man not to make her resort to that. “You know I can’t do anything until he comes to us. And even then, I can’t set them up on a date just because you got a feeling or a vibe.”

“I know I know,” he set the tooka plush on his lap so he could hold up both hands to her, “Obviously you know more than I do, I just had a short conversation, but,” he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just got this feeling when I talked to them. You’re the expert but, if I can finally drag him in here, will you at least give their compatibility a look over?”

Maura quirked an eyebrow, “You think you’re wearing him down?”

He ran a hand over his neatly designed hair, looking a little smug now, “You know not to underestimate my skills. We’re going out tonight, a bunch of us and a lot are bringing their partners. I bet the morning caf that Echo’s name will pop up in the appointment requests by this time tomorrow.”

All she could do was wave her hands, “I won’t promise anything, but, if he submits his profile, I’ll keep all possible matches in mind.” Oh, he was practically beaming now. “But Kix, don’t expect me to wait for him if you still haven’t convinced him,” her tone was firm, but he knew she was only saying it as a professional reminder.

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” was his pleased reply, “I won’t even say I told you so when he signs up.”

“No.”

Kix looked quite affronted, “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

Echo’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, “You mentioned Right to Love, I know where this conversation is going.”

As if he couldn’t be bothered with his brother’s offended look, Echo simply took another drink of his Bespin brandy as Kix recovered himself. Currently, between everyone who had shown up tonight, Echo, Kix, Tech, and Hunter were the only ones still sitting at the booth and table they’d claimed. Fives always made sure to include Echo when the old 501st gang went out, and in turn, Echo tended to drag clone force 99 along with him. It had taken…a while for the two teams to get used to each other, but they'd managed something of a relationship by now.

Kix leaned back in his chair, “All I said was that there’s been another influx of new clients recently.”

“And,” Echo said in a bored tone, “that was your attempt at shifting the conversation so you can try to convince me to sign up, again.”

“There’s something wrong with that?” Kix shrugged, unbothered by the resistance, “It’s kind of my job to pester my brothers into taking care of themselves.”

“I don’t see how getting set up on a blind date is ‘taking care of myself’.”

“You know it’s more than that.”

“Kix,” Echo’s voice was a rumble now, but made it a little less barbed at the edges when he said, “why are you so set on this?”

The other man couldn’t help but sigh. He cast a look around the table, Tech was engrossed in his datapad while Hunter leaned back with his eyes closed. Hopefully, they would use the loud music as a way to turn a blind ear.

Still, Kix leaned in and lowered his tone when he said, “Vod, I see the way you look at them.”

Even though he certainly didn’t need to, he nodded his head toward their brothers. To Fives who was dancing with his once shy partner. To Tup who was cheering his girlfriend on at the billiards table. To Rex who, while never having been a client, still found love at the little service devoted to it.

“It’s okay to want what they have, Echo,” Kix said, and he hoped the sincerity in his tone came through.

Echo didn’t look at him, at first he seemed to stare at nothing in particular, but Kix knew his eyes were drifting between the pairs. He saw the way he watched Fives tease a blush out of his cyare, or Tup smile when his girl leaned her head on his shoulder, or Rex and his little matchmaker staring at each other with pure adoration.

Kix took a sip of his own drink before adding, “Look, I’m not saying love’s going to make life perfect or anything, but, I think they could find someone who could really make you happy.” He waited a beat, then nudged his old friend in the shoulder. “Hell, I’m sure they can even find someone who can handle how grumpy you are. And when that happens, I know you can make that person happy too.” This time he didn’t give Echo a chance to reply, instead, scooting his chair back from the table as he took their glasses, “Think about that while I get us another round.”

Still there, at the table, Echo watched the medic go and released a long breath from the depths of his chest. Yes, Echo had thought about Right to Love many, many times. Every time one of his brothers gushed about their partners, he would feel a small, short tug in his chest. Echo never had been, nor ever would be, the type of man who needed to be in a relationship, but, there was still a longing there. A pining, almost. And he supposed he owed it to himself to finally acknowledge its existence.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

The voice startled Echo out of his thoughts and he turned to find Hunter, still sitting with his head tilted back and eyes shut.

“All you can lose is time, Echo, so why not try it?”

“There’s more to it than that,” he grumbled.

Hunter finally opened his eyes and looked at him. “So? Since when have you backed down from anything? I would have thought the ARC trooper in you would like the risk.”

Echo knew what Hunter was doing, especially since Hunter was observant enough to realize what he meant by ‘more to it’. Still, he had to admit that Hunter's challenge was working.

And, once Echo thought about it with a little more grace, he supposed Kix had a point. If there was anywhere that could help him find someone who was nothing like his previous dalliances, it was probably RTL.

Kix was making his way back to the table now, and got a thankful nod from Hunter when he handed him a fresh drink. Before the medic could even settle back in his chair, Echo knocked him off balance with his next words.

“Alright, you win.”

If Echo wasn’t so hardwired to see things through, he might have walked out the door during the time he waited in the lobby. Filling out the profile questions had made this all feel a little too real all of a sudden and a part of him still couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

Still, seeing the look on not only Kix’s face, but the way Fives’ lit up when he heard that Echo was coming here, made it all a little easier. Kix at least had the decency not to keep harping on the matter after he ‘won’ so to speak. Fives, on the other hand, couldn't stop going on about how excited he was that Echo was ‘getting out there’ again and would finally find someone they could go on double dates with.

It was half endearing, half annoying as all kriff.

Now, Echo was being led into a cozy little office by a woman who put the casual in business casual. A part of him was glad it was Maura who took him on, at least he knew her, even if they weren’t necessarily friends. Though, he supposed if they were, that would be some kind of conflict of interest.

“So, how does this work?” he asked after settling down in the chair across from her.

“Right now? We talk so I can get to know you better, so I can understand your needs and what you’re looking for better.”

To the point, but not unkind, Echo could respect that. “What do you want to know?”

For a moment she simply looked at him, considering and he felt a little uneasy under the gaze, not that he would let it show. Then, “I want to know why you were so reluctant to come here.” Her eyes softened a little, though she didn’t take them off him, “You don’t strike me as someone who balks at love, or even what we do here. And yet, Kix has spent many a lunch break complaining about how you brushed him off every time he brought it up to you.”

Alright, diving into the deep end. At least she didn’t waste time. Still, he needed a moment to think, to collect himself and she seemed patient, settling back in her chair to relax a little.

“It’s not just Right to Love," he started after a while, "it’s not as if I have some weird prejudice against this place. It’s just, dating in general, I suppose.”

“A bad history with dating?”

Echo scoffed, “Yeah, you could say that.”

She didn’t reply, just continued to look back at him, only now she gave him a small, encouraging smile.

Again, he waited a moment, falling back on some of his strategic tendencies before he even thought about it. Old habits died hard, but, he did want to think his answer over carefully. It’s not as if he kept these things secret and, if he was going to tell someone, it should be the woman responsible for finding him someone who wouldn't repeat the mistakes of lovers past.

Echo shifted in his chair, eyes drifting down to the dark wood of her desk. “In the past, when I’ve tried to date, I either get one extreme or the other.” He lifted his prosthetic hand and waved it over the rest of him, over every cybernetic detail. “A lot of people can’t handle this. They act like they can at first, but I see the way they look at me before eventually forgetting my comm number. Or, they’re at the other end of the spectrum. They see all this and think that they need to ‘fix’ me.” The word was bitter in his mouth, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers again, “I don’t need to be fixed, just like I don't need someone who can't stand the way I look. I don't want either of those. I want someone to look at me and…”

His voice trailed off, which was a little unlike him. Echo was usually so sure in his words and actions.

“To look at you and just see you?” Maura finished for him, and the words struck home.

Echo found himself taking in a breath, then, he almost let out a huff of a laugh, “Yeah. Just me. I’m not saying that these aren’t a part of who I am, they are, but there’s so much more to me than that.” He sighed, "So yeah, that's why I'm a little reluctant on dating."

That small, encouraging smile got wider and warmer as she straightened up in her chair, “Thank you for being so honest with me, Echo. Being hesitant to put yourself in our care is understandable, given all that.” It was only then that her eyes left him, instead focusing on her datapad as she typed away. “I’m not going to belittle the trust you’ve put in me by making flowery promises. I can’t guarantee that whoever I match you with will undoubtedly see you the way you deserve to be seen. I will, however, promise that I won’t give up until we find someone who does.”

Echo chuckled at that, “So, you’ll take on my high-maintenance case?”

Maura smiled at him, “High-maintenance? Oh, dear Echo, don’t flatter yourself. If you were truly that, we probably would have sent you to Daria. I don’t think there’s ever been a challenge that woman didn’t want to tackle." She winked at him, "You’re stuck with me instead.”

“You’re at least honest with me,” Echo shrugged, “And Kix seems to have faith in you, so I’ll trust his judgment.”

“I’m so glad I have glowing recommendations,” she drawled as she finished her notes.

He actually found himself smiling and almost, almost felt like something in his chest lightened. Alright, Echo wasn’t too proud to admit when someone else was right and, somehow, he actually had a good feeling about this.

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #The Bad Batch

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kakodaimones · 3 months

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@kttybot asked: [ ♡ ] It can't be said that Vox didn't get his money's worth when it came to Kitty: she had come a long way compared to when she first came out of the box. She managed to, almost miraculously, quell Valentino's ire just enough so as not to completely disrupt business flow ( how could she not? She was his easy, accessible punching bag with the added business of being near-indestructible ) - she had better been worth the price tag! [ ♡ ] But the Robo Fizz was starting to learn a little too much. So it's no real wonder that she had taken a liking to wander around the halls on her own accord, without instruction. Began to 'volunteer' in wanting to serve drinks or whatever else was needed, unprompted. One would assume, even, that perhaps she was trying to get away from Valentino. But it's not like she wouldn't answer such a thing when asked. She remained cooperative in her maintenance sessions, seemingly nothing to hide… [ ♡ ] And it's in one of these particular routine visits, as Kitty sits atop Vox's work counter where something rather strange happens… At first, there isn't anything, particularly unusual. They have a set routine, and depending on what kind of damage she sustained, if at all, it probably wouldn't take any more than 2 hours to get fixed up. She would verbally deliver any reports or provide audio / video transcription of whatever exactly Valentino did to her if at all necessary ( so as to pinpoint specific damage ) or whatever it was Vox required. [ ♡ ] Thankfully, very little injury this time around. No hard fixes necessary. When allowed, Kitty unplugs her tail, legs still swinging ( smile present as always; she almost looks genuinely happy ) - "< NO VIRUSES OR MALFUNCTIONS FOUND AT THIS TIME! >" Kitty's pre-programmed response chirps out. Shifting her weight, she pauses for a moment, tilting her head before suddenly moving forward. She kisses Vox right on the mouth - more of a peck, really, just as quick in pulling away. "< THANK FOR YOUR FEEDBACK! >" Kitty looks quite proud of herself, not realizing the severity of her actions…

There's always a therapeutic enjoyment to repairing the robot, something like meditation that contrasts with the apparent distress he sometimes finds Kitty in. For Vox, it brings back nearly century-old pleasant nostalgia of taking apart and putting back together cameras and radios, just to see how they ticked. By this point it knows the insides of the Robo Fizz like the back of its hand - there's almost a kind of perverse joy when Valentino's fury manages to inflict some new kind of damage to the poor girl, giving the television demon a puzzle to work through and keep himself sharp.

But at the same time, this intimate familiarity has started to become a source of concern for the overlord. Every indication is that she should be functioning as normal after these repairs, but time and again he finds her drifting away from that original programming. He can only assume that the cause of Kitty's tendency to act so autonomously is a some kind of damage to her internal systems, but every time he attempts to address it, at the end of their sessions it's always the same. No viruses or malfunctions found....

The television demon is caught off guard by the sudden action. In his paranoia, acting on reflex, a hand shoots out for the throat to try and keep a potential enemy, another potential backstabber, away from him, fingers digging into the throat as an eye flares up. Crackling electricity running between his antennae as his other hand rears back in readiness to defend himself before they process what has happened.

Claws release the robot's neck as clarity returns after the initial fight-or-flight reflex and Kitty is set back down. It's just affection, nothing more. A sigh of relief escapes from Vox as he inspects Kitty's neck, making sure that he hasn't left any marks or indentations as a result of that reaction. Regret is visible on his face, frustrated with himself for acting without thinking. Don't antagonize the damned thing, you need its trust....

"Never do that to me without prior authorization, understood?" Vox's touch is now gentle, attempting to be as reassuring as he can manage. The hand at the neck has moved up to Kitty's cheek, tenderly stroking it like he's trying to soothe a pet. If the machine's autonomy is growing, cultivating genuine loyalty is an extra layer of security, and honey serves him better than vinegar.

#kttybot #{vox; ic}「we can’t rewind」#{ask answered}「welcome to the show」#long post #cw abuse #don't know if this will scare her off a little #or if val has set the bar so low that this gets read way too generously

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Twelve

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, bff!Peter Parker

Warnings: language, mentions of smut/sex tapes, blackmail/threatening

Summary: With Tony now on your side, you and Bucky are able to take steps toward stopping your blackmailer — until things take a dark turn.

Author’s Note: Ugh, it’s not as long as I’d like it to be but it’s a good lead-up to the final chapter and I won’t feel so bad about taking forever if I finally get something out there 😖 I haven’t been in the best headspace lately but things are kind of looking up so hopefully I get the conclusion out faster 😞

Series Masterlist

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s @fandomlovver @ahahafudge @thebivirgin

You thanked every deity in existence that there wasn’t enough room for you and four grown men in the Jeep because your dad had to drive separately from you, Bucky, Steve, and Sam. Once the doors shut, however, there was one question lingering in the air.

“So… how’d it go?” Sam asked.

Bucky let out a sigh.

“I’m still alive,” he deadpanned.

“Are you gonna… you know… stay that way?” Sam asked slowly.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips at the question. And when Bucky glanced over at you, he laughed quietly too. Which led to Steve chuckling at him and Sam smiling at the way he (unintentionally) relieved some of the gravity of the situation.

Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit for the rest of the drive, but you caught him growing tense again when you all met your dad in the underground parking garage. It was the only place in your apartment building with no windows and no audio, but you knew there was video surveillance. There was a chance your stalker had access to the video, most likely through hacking the system, but they wouldn’t know what was being said. As you approached your father, he pulled what looked like two sniper rifles out of the backseat.

“Barnes, Wilson. You’re coming with me,” he said.

“Dad,” you chastised, assuming he was only taking Bucky with him to keep him from you.

“He was a World War II sniper, [Y/N]. It makes sense to have him using a scope to check where this psycho was watching you.”

You were silent in response, mostly because you knew he was right. And you’d still have Steve with you in your apartment, so it’s not like you’d be left alone.

Bucky immediately checked the safety and pulled back the bolt handle to make sure it was fully unloaded. He didn’t expect it to have anything in the chamber since there was no magazine, but he learned to take extra precaution. And just like when he cleared your apartment all those months ago, something about seeing him wield the power of a firearm made you shiver. How very American of you.

“These are all connected to a secure line,” Tony continued as he handed everyone the type of flip phone you had in middle school. “I hope you all remember how to text the old fashioned way because we’re not calling unless absolutely necessary. Considering what was in the video,” his jaw clenched as his eyes shot daggers at Bucky, “there are probably audio and video devices all over the apartment.”

“We scanned for that when we first started staying with her,” Sam said. “I just figured the video was taken before her identity was released.”

What he said just solidified Steve’s assumption. You definitely knew who was blackmailing you.

“It was after,” you said. “It was… that night was shortly after the…” you hesitated. Everyone looked at you patiently, but you could see Bucky take a subtle step away from your dad. He knew when the video was taken. “Um, it was shortly after the, uh, the pregnancy scare.”

All eyes moved to Bucky and Tony. The emotions that flickered across your dad’s face clearly showed his thoughts: shock, confusion, realization... You wouldn’t be surprised if this was the straw that broke the camel’s back; Bucky must’ve had the same thought as he darted to stand behind you.

“The what?!” Tony barked. “You — Barnes! I’m gonna —” He cut himself off and just huffed out a heavy breath, his hands curled into fists by his side and his jaw tight in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Not to make things worse but it takes two,” you said. “I was a willing participant.”

“But did it have to be with him?!”

“Dad!”

“I’m just saying, pumpkin, it could’ve been Parker!”

“He’s a kid!”

“And he,” your dad countered, pointing at Bucky, “is a senior citizen!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I’m not having this conversation now. We’ll argue about my taste in men later. Go check out the buildings.”

You twisted on your heel and pulled Bucky down for a very unnecessary kiss. You knew it pissed your dad off, but he was being so frustrating! With a snap of his fingers, Tony got Sam and Bucky to follow him out the doors to the street where they would split up and check out the buildings within view of your kitchen and bedroom to see which one the photos were taken from.

Steve led you up to your apartment so you two could stand in the kitchen for everyone to look for from their respective buildings. You hopped up onto the counter while Steve leaned against the fridge across from you, arms crossed and brow furrowed as your eyes met.

“I think you’re right,” you said plainly. Steve held his finger up to his lips and pulled out the flip phone. You were kind of shocked he knew how pre-smart phone texting worked, but he continued to surprise you.

What makes you say that?

It’s not easy to get in this building. It’s even harder to get in my apartment.

Right as you hit send, a familiar jolt of realization shot up your spine. There was one major thing all of you were forgetting. You leaped off the counter and ran to your bedroom with Steve hot on your heels. In your earlier panic, none of you thought to look for a camera in the bedroom. There’s only one angle that video could’ve been taken from and it would’ve had to be inside your room.

If your memory served you correctly, the camera would’ve been set up somewhere on or near your bookshelf. Steve stood in the doorway while you scanned through all your books. You practically knew your setup by heart, so catching the skinny book that was out of place didn’t take long.

You turned to face Steve as you said, “I don’t have a hard cover copy of ‘Romeo and Juliet.’” You turned back to glare at the book and mumbled, “I actually hate ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

The book was pretty thin, making it stand out even more in your extensive collection, but the title was written in a clear, elegant script along the spine. It almost made you question your own memory — until you noticed the ballpoint-sized hole near the bottom. The black background made it almost indistinguishable, but when you pulled it from the shelf, the hole was evident. And when you pulled it open, you found wires inside the cut-out pages and a small camera tucked against the hole in the spine.

“That fucker didn’t even clean up after himself,” you spat, throwing the pseudo-book onto your mattress. Steve picked it up and checked it out before calling Peter.

“Hey, if I send you a camera, can you see if it’s being wirelessly streamed to a separate device?” Your head snapped back to Steve at those words. When did the old man become so well-versed with tech? The last you knew, he struggled to take an iPhone video. Just a few months ago, he asked what the difference was between a flash drive and a hard drive.

While Steve talked to Peter, you walked back to the kitchen to see if the other boys were all in place. You didn’t have the scopes and binoculars they did, but you could still take a guess at which building your stalker took the photos from.

There weren’t many buildings high and close enough for that kind of angle and clarity, but the one you eyed most was just a bit to your left and a couple stories above where your apartment sat in your building. It wouldn’t be cheap to get a place like that, which made you start to doubt Steve’s assumption.

As you stood in the floor-to-ceiling window frame of your kitchen, your flip phone started buzzing in your hand.

“Yeah?” you answered.

“Don’t say anything that might give us away, in case there’s a recording device in your apartment,” Tony said. “I’m in the building right across from you but the angle doesn’t feel right. I think your boy toy is in the right place.”

As if on cue, Steve stepped beside you and answered his phone.

“Hey, Buck.”

“Sounds like you’re right,” you said to your dad. “He just called Steve.”

“We’ll meet you in the parking garage.” With that, your line went dead.

“Okay, meet us downstairs,” Steve said before ending his own call. “Buck’s pretty sure he found the apartment the photos were taken from. Sent the address to Parker so we should get contact info soon.”

You just nodded and headed downstairs again. Things were finally starting to look up. You had two new leads on top of anything Peter, Pepper, and Happy had found and prayed they somehow linked back to Steve’s accused.

Unfortunately, your optimism was shattered when everyone met back up in the garage. Before anyone could say a word, your personal cell started ringing, but the caller ID was... Bucky.

No one said a word as you all met beside the Jeep and you showed everyone the “James 🐻” ringing on your screen, resulting in a lot of confused looks. Bucky pulled his phone out of his pocket and proved he wasn’t accidentally butt-dialing you, freezing your blood in your veins.

“They’re spoofing,” Tony concluded.

“Answer it,” Steve said.

“Put it on speaker,” Sam added quickly.

You nodded as you pressed “accept,” doing your best to keep your voice steady and unbothered.

“Hello?”

“You’ve really done it now, [Y/N].” The voice on the other end said slowly. They were clearly distorting the sound and you’d bet they couldn’t be traced. They’d never be that stupid. “Have your boyfriend search your name.”

You looked up at Bucky who was scrambling to search your name on his phone… and immediately paled. He almost looked like he had seen a ghost, though you’d argue what he actually saw was so much worse.

“They released the video.”

Your throat constricted as you tried to not literally throw up at those four words. And when Bucky shuffled beside you to show you the top results under your name, you weren’t sure how long you could hold it back. The first page of results was just news articles about your sex tape even though it had been released only 20 minutes ago. You snatched Bucky’s phone and clicked the link to the video and sure enough, it was you and Bucky. Two hours of you and Bucky.

“You son of a bitch,” you practically growled into the phone. “That wasn’t part of your fucking deal.”

“You took away my first bargaining chip so I played my second. And believe me, I’ve got plenty more videos. You two are quite the pair,” the unnaturally deep voice snarked. “But now you also know lives will be lost if you don’t listen. You now have three days or that man and his family die.”

The line cut out then, leaving everyone standing in stunned silence.

“I’ll get Pep on taking down the video,” Tony muttered before pulling his phone out to text Pepper. “We’ll have to swing by a couple banks and pull out the money.”

“Dad, I don’t want you to bail me out,” you practically whined.

“We don’t have any other option, [Y/N],” he snapped. “You don’t have to give a shit about him releasing sex tapes of you and the Vibranium Vibrator,” Bucky cringed at that nickname, “but I know you won’t let that other kid’s family die. We’ll keep trying to track them down, but we have to be prepared.”

You sighed. You knew he was right. If you ended up finding the culprit, if Steve was right, you could just put the money back. Plus, two million out of your father’s billions wasn’t enough to break him.

“Okay, fine. Let’s get ready,” you mumbled.

Steve interjected before anyone moved too far.

“I have a plan.”

#bucky x stark!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes series #Stark!reader

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kiame-sama · 3 years

Text

Web Of Desire (Yandere Chrollo x Reader x Yandere Hisoka) part 3

Warnings; mention of past non-con, pregnancy, descriptive language, Hisoka, yandere tendencies, yandere behavior, yandere relationship,

You slowly woke up, a faint whine leaving your lips as you cuddled down into a pair of warm arms. You faintly realized something was off and only when you rest your hand over your stomach did you realize what it was. You sat up bolt straight and threw the blankets off of you, staring down at your smooth stomach.

"What's wrong?"

You almost replied before you realize that the voice that had called out to you was not that of your husband. You turned to look at the stranger you shared your bed with and you let you a yelping cry when you spied the familiar red hair and gold eyes. The startled scream that left your lips continued even as you shot out of bed.

It took you a moment longer to realize where you were and that your stomach was once again exceedingly swollen. You were standing in the room of the air-ship you and Chrollo shared, a sleepy and confused Chrollo slowly sitting up in bed. Your comfortable night-gown stretched around your enlarged stomach and made it apparent just how far along you were.

"What's wrong, Little Spider?"

"I... Just had a bad dream is all."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really..."

Chrollo held out his arms, beckoning you to return to his side and try to rest again. You slowly walked over to him and let him pull you into his arms, resting your head against his chest as he rubbed your sides. One of his hands rest gently on your stomach, smiling slightly when he felt a tiny hand push back.

"Just restless, I guess..."

"Might be that our baby spiders are just restless so they're making it hard for you."

"Seems they agree with you on that one."

You winced slightly from a particularly rough kick and Chrollo silently leaned down to kiss your stomach, huming softly.

"Be nice to your mother."

You couldn't help the loving smile that pulled at your lips as Chrollo spoke to your stomach. You may not be sure if the children even were Chrollo's- given the unfortunate events that took place against your will- but you appreciated the gentle behavior all the same. You also appreciated how calm he was even though you noticed a rise in seething hatred any time Hisoka came up in conversation.

It was clear Chrollo blamed himself for what that bastard clown had done to you, and he was likely harder on himself about it than anyone else dare to be. His hate and desperate need to protect you soothed you slightly, letting you breathe easy knowing Chrollo took up rather consistent guard. It also soothed you to know that your husband would stay with you no matter what happened.

The troupe had yet to respond to any of your messages and you truly hoped that they were getting on well regardless of the fact that two members were KIA and their two leaders were MIA. You wondered how they responded to the news of what had happened to you and Chrollo that caused the two of you to avoid them. You also wondered what they would do to the children once they were allowed contact with you and Chrollo again.

All you could do now was wait and see, given how heavily pregnant you already were. You were tired and in need of serious rest given just how close you were to giving birth. It made things better to have Chrollo by your side, given all that you were going through. To some extent, you honestly were terrified to leave his side for long, always feeling like you were being watched.

The warm feeling of being wrapped in his arms gave you a great sense of peace and the little lives growing inside of you settled down. You probably would have gone through much worse if you were alone, but you tried not to think too hard about what would have happened to you. There was always the troupe, but no place felt quite as reassuring or relaxing as being in Chrollo's arms.

"Chrollo?"

"Hm?"

"Even if they are his... I want to keep them."

"... I know. I'll still be right here by your side no matter what you choose or who their father is. I'll always be here for you, my Little Spider."

~~~~~~~~

You lay in a white hospital bed, hearing the EKG beeping quietly as you try to relax and regain your clarity once more. You deserved the rest too, given what you had to endure for about 28 hours. You had passed out after your second child was born, exhausted from the strain and effort it had taken to bring the new life into this world.

You were faintly aware of someone sitting by your bedside, keeping you company even in your exhausted state. You were more exhausted than usual, and that said something given your need for sleep and rest already being more than average. The faint sound of an infant fussing pulled you the rest of the way to consciousness, eyes slowly opening.

Next to you sat a rather calm Chrollo listening to what must have been one of the doctors talking to him. As you turned your gaze, you saw two of the nurses were present, both holding one child swaddled in small blankets.

"Mrs. Lucilfer?"

"Hm?"

"Ah, it's good to see you conscious. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

Your short response earned an amused chuckle from Chrollo as he had gotten the same response numerous times before.

"You're always tired, Little Spider."

"Then I'm always accurate when I tell you I'm tired."

Chrollo gently held your hand and that small moment with him seemed far more intimate than you had expected from him. He was typically passive when in the public eye or around others, but you appreciated the small moment of vulnerability. Another snorting cry drew your attention to the small bundle in one of the nurses' arms while the infant inside that bundle fussed and struggled.

"If you are feeling well enough, Mrs. Lucilfer, you can hold your children and feed them if you wish. Any pain medication is already out of your system and it is typically recommended that new mothers nurse so the infant can begin building up antibodies."

You nodded, holding your arms out to the nurse that held the fussing child, the other nurse handing off the second infant to Chrollo. The first nurse gently transfered the complaining infant into your arms, the bright pink blanket oddly contrasting the white sterile environment. Likewise, the pale blue blanket seemed almost out of place when put with Chrollo, his pale skin and dark aesthetic seeming unusual in contrast to the blanket.

A boy and a girl. Your little twins.

The child in Chrollo's arms had yet to fuss or make much of any noise, instead being fast asleep in your husband's arms. The boy looked quite strikingly like Chrollo, black hair already atop the child's head in a messy fashion. The girl you held, however, looked nothing like the man you loved and married.

The girl had flame red hair that was surprisingly mostly grown in atop her tiny head, eyes like liquid gold staring up at you pleadingly. For a moment, you hesitated to do anything to soothe the infant, seeing only your attacker staring back at you. You pushed these thoughts aside, firmly reminding yourself that she wasn't him and she wasn't just his child, she was your's as well.

After the slight moment of hesitation, you brought your daughter close and shifted the cover you wore just enough that she could latch on. Her fussing quickly stopped and she became calm once more, settling in your arms and quietly nursing. You looked over at Chrollo, his eyes had been fixed on that bright red hair as he held his son protectively.

"... She looks like him."

"Yes, she does... And he looks like you."

"What do you want to name them?"

"... Well, we already agreed that if we had a boy, he would be named Kumoryu and if we had a girl she would be named Himetsu. We have both so we can name both what we planned."

"Kumoryu and Himetsu... Alright then. The two new spiders of the troupe."

Chrollo handed Kumoryu off to you as the infant began to stir and fuss in his arms, whining in hunger. You smiled when both infants were quietly nursing and finally it felt like you could breathe for the first time in who knows how long. Chrollo seemed to be sticking to his word and though Himetsu shared traits with your attacker, Chrollo still seemed to regard her as his daughter.

At least you had a moment to finally rest. You could deal with the Troupe and everything else later. For the time being, you just wanted to be with your family for a little while and feel 'normal' for the first time since Chrollo took you away from your old life. It wasn't much, but they were still your's.

Your family.

#x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #female reader #reader insert #yandere chrollo x reader x yandere hisoka #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #Little Spider series #Web of Desire series #yandere hisoka morrow #yandere hisoka x reader #yandere hxh

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Not sure if you still want to write for old prompts but if so; May I request Rodimus, Brainstorm, and a bot of your choice for the kidnapped s/o defending their bot and giving the kidnapper a tongue lashing? Your writing is so good it seriously brightens my day reading through it all! :D

I never tire of my prompts, lovely anon! Thanks a million and here's the good boys! I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to do for the third bot but I poured my heart and soul into these two, I hope you like them!

Rodimus

·Your panic had never really gone beyond some light anxiety about when you'd get to eat next, but you credited that to the rescue party you knew was coming. Rodimus had bested bad guys far more competent than this loser, so you had few worries about getting out. Truthfully your greatest concern was how unfathomably annoying your captor was proving to be. Between their grandiose personality and their constant taunting over the communication line, you feel as if you're going to go mad. Unfortunately, when the mocking starts to be aimed directly at Rodimus without end, you quickly build to your limit. The gloves come off when your captor crosses the final line and calls your partner "Hot Rod" in an unacceptable jab.

·"Oh for God's sake! It's Rodimus you dolt, not Hot Rod! I know the extra syllable is a little difficult for you, but try to keep up!" Your shout echoes so loudly in the tiny cave that a bit of dust falls from the ceiling. Your captor is quick to try and shut you up, but that doesn't stop you in the slightest, as yelling feels far better than taking any more of their trash. For pete's sake, they stole you for ransom and they're expecting good behavior? Entitlement falls way short of describing what a jerk this bot is, and you let them know it, channeling the insults you know your partner would unleash if they could.

·"You think you scare me? You think you scare anyone?! You're dumb enough to piss off the captain of the Lost Light buddy, you should be afraid! Rodimus sees guys like you as footnotes compared to what he usually deals with!" Quite accustomed to your beloved captain charging in to save the day, you let loose a long list of his accomplishments, proudly defending and boasting at the same time. Your captor can't even get a word in edgewise. With a devilish smirk, you start to go on about all the less public ways Rodimus rules as a partner. His impeccable charm, his smooth wit, and his capacity to perform as a Prime where it really counts... That last bit is kept from vulgarity only due to a none too distant explosion cutting you off.

·Before anything can move, the door quite literally melts before imploding inward as molten metal, revealing Rodimus covered in flame. He moves in a fiery blur, his fist more akin to a meteorite as it collides with your captor to knock them out in a single punch. At your cheering of his name, he comes to your side in a flash, fire dissipating completely after he frees you of your bonds. Moments later the remainder of the crew is pouring in with Magnus scolding Rodimus for rushing ahead. He ignored him completely as he takes you into his arms, optics shining as if he's beholding something more precious than the Matrix could ever be. Though his words are flirty, his tone is tender and brimming with affection as he takes you back to the ship. His lovestruck expression doesn't seem to go away even when he throws a massive party to celebrate your rescue.

·In an incredibly rare moment where his responsibilities pull him away from you, a bot close to him tells you something they think you should know. Rodimus was initially devastated by your kidnapping. Though the entire ship had rallied for your rescue, he'd barely held it together enough to take charge, and hearing the bot mock him had nearly sent him over the edge. Your outburst had, as if by a miracle, revitalized him. Hearing you stick up for him, including your grand list of what you adored about him, had so inspired him that controlling his fire had become easy. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. You believing in him had put into perspective what he was capable of, to the point it lit a fire in the most literal sense of the phrase.

Brainstorm

·Dating a bot brilliant enough to rend time had made you quite accustomed to shenanigans of all kinds. Thus, you were calm when kidnapped, both due to the aforementioned reason as well as your certainty of rescue. However, that calm had proved short lived when your captor proved to be an annoying jerk with a massive inferiority complex. Their ceaseless mockery through the communication channel was like torture the DJD would have found too cruel to condone. You'd been able to stay cool for some time, focusing on keeping the situation calm and looking for weak points your rescuers might exploit, but inevitably you'd been pushed to your limit. The final straw had been your captor having the audacity to mock your partner for being a hopeless inventor who only managed to make things no one needed, and that sent you over the edge.

·"Hopeless?! You call inventing time travel and creating the multiverse hopeless?! This coming from a loser in a cave with the most backwards security system on this side of the galaxy?!" Your outburst had come with a rattling of your chains to emphasize your point, and between your voice and the clanking metal you'd immediately had the full attention of the bad bot. Still enraged, you made a point of detailing every single categorical failure they'd displayed, having learned plenty about judging the quality of technology in Brainstorm's lab. There's more than enough material for you to throw at them with the nightmare of poor maintenance surrounding you. "When was the last time you bothered patching up these turrets anyway?! Hope you're not planning on using these for defense, Brainstorm will have them short circuiting before he's done hacking that door!"

·There's something resembling an attempt at a comeback, but you're a mile ahead before it's even halfway out. To say your beloved bot eclipses this loser's intellect would imply they'd actually register on the same level, and you have to laugh at the absurdity of someone so incompetent daring to come after one of the most brilliant bots in the galaxy, something you let them know in no uncertain terms. The litany of reality warping ways you might be rescued is as long as it is ridiculously plausible. You begin going off on the countless other ways Brainstorm might get around this captive situation, extolling his many talents in weapon design and paying special attention to how brilliantly he thinks outside the box. You're about to get into the details of other areas he's creative in when the lights go out and everything plunges in to darkness.

·Flashes of biolights, small explosions, and shouts of action are all you have to discern some incredible rush of activity. Before you can really figure out what's happening a beautiful pair of yellow optics light up the darkness, and in a split second your chains are broken and you're being lovingly cupped by a pair of careful hands. At the flip of a small device the lights flicker on to reveal a beaten but otherwise fine captor being cuffed, but you ignore that entirely when Brainstorm removes his mask to speak to you. Playfully fussing over your condition, he uncharacteristically kisses your little head in full view of everyone, something he's never done before. In fact, the next few days he's nothing but openly loving and outright showy in his affections, publicly presenting you with a series of fantastic gifts invented to profess his love.

·In a rare moment of solitude, you're unexpectedly taken aside by a bot who says they need to let you know something important. Brainstorm was almost dangerous. He'd already lost one love, and he'd been so intent on not losing another he'd been forced from his lab to prevent him from tearing reality asunder to get to you. He'd been nearly impossible to console or restrain until your voice came through the comm. Hearing you defend him so passionately had calmed and invigorated him all at once, grounding him in reality and giving him the clarity he needed to assist in rescuing you. The device he'd created to extinguish enemy defenses had been put together at a speed that impressed Perceptor. It was thanks to you that he remembered to go slow and take things one step at a time, because just as much as you were worth fighting for, you were worth living for.

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

[Previous Post]

By his calculation, it was no real surprise that she couldn't remember anything that she'd said to him.

She had been floating on the edge of elixir and the aftershocks it left in her system, most of what left her lips was nonsensical, at worst. She had far more clarity with her ability to speak but she had been easily distracted and confused if he let her talk without some kind of motivation.

Ray hadn't even had to pry. It was as if she were a Goddess who truly knew everything. She knew things that Ray had to double check for their authenticity but found she was right every step of the way there. There were things that he would have otherwise had no way to know, but she was right enough for him to put every word to thought.

She had firm thoughts and opinions, and it was precious to see her get upset over nothing. She would get so inflamed over this or that, but she spoke of the stories of himself and those around him like it was her livelihood. As if the world around them was her everything.

However, some of her tone needed to be corrected. She spoke highly of much of the RFA, even if she was able to easily proclaim what she saw as a perceived fear or hesitance. He didn't care if she pitied the most of them… he just didn't want her to feel anything for the liar and the traitor. It's why he didn't ask about them.

But, the rest of the members?

He had enough information to draw out anything he wanted from them. She even had her own suggestions for what could work on them. He noted it in her phone, where she had been trying to figure out what may bring the RFA to Mint Eye. It was amusing to think she had considered it before meeting him. It was just another reminder that she was meant to be a saint to Mint Eye.

Setting aside his feelings in knowing that her information had been given to her because of a game, he knew it didn’t matter how she got it. She wielded it with grace and luxury in her hands. She built upon the backs of what she had been handed and made it stronger... she found holes in stories and mended them by her hands.

"Princess, relax for me," he was as gentle as he could be but she simply hadn't had the time to learn how to sit still. She was coming more and more out of her gaze so she was having such a hard time with her tremors. "I know it's hard. But I need you to look your best today."

Either way, Ray had what he needed and plans could begin. But, right now, he had something even more important to think of. His Savior wanted to meet the person who would save Paradise with ease, his precious one. He tutted when he felt her squirm underneath his hand, smoothing out the brush against her messy curls as he did.

Kaitlyn blinked a few times and then looked at the reflection in the mirror. She would see Ray fretting over little things as he did but she hadn’t quite realized how much work he was doing. He had taken great care to make her look exactly as radiant as she was. If they didn't see it before, they would see it in front of the Savior.

He caught her hand before it could touch her hand, and he lowered it back down onto her lap with a tight smile. He spent an awfully long time making her messy curls tighter and consistent. He didn’t want her to mess any of it up because she wasn’t in the state of mind to look at herself just yet.

She was easily placated, though.

All it’d taken to make her listen to him in the first place was to wrap his coat around her shoulders. She stopped shivering and shaking when he did. It was almost adorable. Compared to the acidic mint and undertones of alcohol within the potion, he imagined the floral scent calmed her down. Aromatherapy was a good idea! If he could’ve taken her back to the garden...

As the clarity was slowly returning, she seemed like in a daze and more of a frenzy. Her eyes darted all over the place as she strained to figure out where she was and why she was there. He knew that feeling, it happened often as he came out of the buzz that elixir warranted to those that survived the first trial.

"Why…?"

"You're meeting with my Savior, remember?"

He frowned. What did she have to be afraid of? Did she misunderstand how lucky she was? Or, was the elixir still making her fearful to be alone with other people except for him? She would cry out with names that he couldn’t recall or know, after all. She might’ve been scared to make a fool of herself in front of his Savior.

Something akin to fear flashed in her eyes, “I thought... I thought you said she was okay with us being together, Ray.”

“Of course! My Savior promised that we’ll be together, but she wants to meet you so our mission can begin. After all, she wants to formally greet you as a true member of paradise! You took the elixir so well, too. It’s amazing. So, she wants you to see our paradise now that you’re able to function properly.”

She’d seen worse.

—

“I’m...”

“A member of paradise,” Rika spoke with resolution. Her emerald eyes flickered over the newcomer, as if sizing her up and trying to figure out the best way to be able to pick her mind apart. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to Magenta, for the first time, officially. While you must be surprised to be here with you, I must thank you for offering your wisdom and insight to ensure our success.”

To put it plainly, Rika was searching for something in between the lines. Ray had said over and over that her information knew no bounds but there were parts of it that he couldn’t gain access to quite yet. She knew everything about them and yet, she was devoted to the cause. She had no doubt in her mind after what he’d shown her on that phone.

She always imagined that she would have to tether Ray with a string to keep him to obey but now she had two tools to use at her disposal. She not only had Ray who worked himself like a dog for the smallest grain of affection, and now, this girl who would do anything for Ray and the paradise that he wanted to hold so badly.

Photos that couldn’t exist in this world as they existed in quality unlike their own. Information about everything and everyone that nobody was ever meant to get into their hands. Reports and essays that could rival anyone in their terms of control and clarity. Her devotion to Ray was something else, and it could readily be used and manipulated.

An idealistic young woman who believed in empathy and shining love. She was a realist but her romantic heart could sway her to be bent easily. It reminded her much of herself before she realized her true potential. A shining light was easy to capture as long as you had the right tools.

Then, she would finally feel the light of salvation.

This could be a useful love.

Love built upon obsession that came from sincere bonds. Unlike the way that her former flame had done. His love had burned and devoured every part of her heart and now... she could take back her precious family from his clutches and wave this love in his face. She could use it, she could use them, and she was going to do so.

Though, Ray seemed to have dosed her with more than she expected. Her eyes still looked glossy even though she had enough clarity to realize the situation at hand. Her hand nervously fiddled with the fabric of the borrowed coat she wore, as her eyes darted left to right, not wanting to meet Rika’s gaze.

No matter, it was a delight either way to see things working.

Though this girl was taller than she was, she paid no mind, resting her hand against her shoulder to catch her attention. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. You’ve proven your capability already with your charming perspective, I must say, you’re a delightful read when you tear people down. You’ve seen the things I’ve always overlooked.”

“Ah, I...” Kaitlyn murmured. It was a small nod to indicate that she’d heard what Rika said. “I... I like to study people, it’s a hobby... I’m not that great for what it's worth.”

Oh.

An insecurity.

“Ray has shown me otherwise. Your words will be the very thing that save my precious mistreated family. I’m interested to hear more about what you think we should do. After all, someone as devoted as you can only know talent. Trust me, I know skill when I see it. I welcome it to our paradise because we need people like you.”

“...Thank you, Savior,” the words seemed foreign against her lips but she had managed to catch herself in time. She seemed to be good in print but in need with her actual words. “I... I’m thankful you see it that way. I’m... I’m happy you have welcomed me.”

Rika’s attention shifted back to Ray. He seemed to be eyeing his plaything with a serious fever in his eyes. It could’ve been a problem, but... as long as she knew that this infatuation was going to secure paradise, she would allow it. It wasn’t as if they would be able to turn away from their promised future. It was a given, and Ray would never let go of it, now.

She smiled.

What a frightened little rabbit.

“Ray, be a dear and see to it that she’s comfortable. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us if we want to achieve our goals within the next few months... aren’t you pleased it won’t take years to succeed now? All you’ve ever wanted, you’ve got it in your grasps. Don’t lose sight of that,” her voice was clear. “To get what you want, you must never look away from what’s ahead. No matter how ugly it seems. After all, I have a strong feeling that our dear Kaitlyn will have them on their knees soon enough.”

His expression changed with that. His lips curled upward and he nodded, his way of saying he understood. The bloodlust in his eyes... now, that was what she wanted to hold onto. As long as he behaved, as long as he kept his dream ahead, paradise would thrive, and she would have what she wanted. Jihyun on his hands and knees, begging for mercy.

And she’d snap him like a twig for thinking she’d given him a chance after what he did.

Rika stepped back and Ray stepped forward. He took her by the hand and let her gaze into his eyes, that cloudy look leaving him as he played the role that he wanted. Pity, he wanted to be a prince when he was better suited for something else. Well, in due time, she thought.

“I’ll begin preparations, my Savior. For eternal paradise.”

“For eternal paradise, my children.”

#self insert #danger ray #drabble #mod kait

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lockefanfic · 4 years

Text

Business Trip: Part 40 - Ride

Tokyo was one of those cities that seemed to go on forever.

It never seemed to end. An endless sprawl of concrete, glass, and steel, extending out into the horizon and beyond in every direction, a testament to the history of Japan itself - soaring skyscrapers built with the very latest in structural and engineering knowledge stood next to temples that had endured centuries of history and would probably endure centuries more. Housing and commerce and recreation, all bound together by a network of roads and streets that functioned like the circulatory system of a living creature, transporting its ten million inhabitants like veins might transport blood.

It seemed, sometimes, like Tokyo was a living creature in and of itself, breathing in and out, always on the move - never sleeping, never resting. Each building was a cell in a living creature, each with its own history and character, each with a story to tell.

But from the back of a motorcycle, it all looked like a blur.

Perhaps it was mostly because you were preoccupied with holding on for dear life. It was one thing to be the one actually operating the vehicle; at least then you knew that you had full control over it and could at least dictate, to some extent, your own fate. But today you were merely a passenger, holding on with a tight grip on the operator’s waist, your life quite literally in her hands.

Park Jihyo drove the bike like she were in a race with only one participant, weaving in and out of Tokyo’s rush hour traffic as though she were behind the wheel of a sports or rally car and not a comparatively flimsy sport motorcycle. In other circumstances you would have welcomed the opportunity to wrap your arms around her voluptuous frame from behind; today you were too busy trying to keep your lunch inside your stomach as Jihyo whipped around corners and sped down straightaways.

Two days have passed since your team landed in Tokyo. The first couple of days were preoccupied with settling down into your accommodations, with everyone aside from Sana and Momo checking into the same hotel. Sana, of course, had an apartment in the city and had invited Momo to room with her. She’d invited you as well, but you politely turned her down, not quite ready to face the prospect of daily living with the two girls given their history with you, and the drama that would likely arise as a result.

For now you were happy to let the two spend some time together, even if you knew that the “best friends forever” mask that Sana wore around Momo only remained in place so long as you weren’t involved. Once you were, you knew she wouldn’t hesitate to take the gloves off. Sana shot you a suggestive wink as she piled into the cab with Momo, and you resolved at that moment that you’d have to deal with her feelings for you sooner rather than later.

Yesterday was spent mostly formulating a plan of action. The rest of the team was to reach out to their contacts in the city to see if there was any sign of Seulgi, Yeri or Irene. Jihyo and Nayeon had several law enforcement contacts and colleagues they decided to meet. As the team lead, you decided to join Jihyo as she met with the commissioner of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

You had expected to hop into a cab that would bring you to the Metropolitan Police HQ building in the Kasumigaseki district. You weren’t expecting Jihyo to rent a sports bike, toss you a helmet, and tell you to hold on.

Thankfully you eventually made it to the Metropolitan Police HQ in one piece - even if you weren’t entirely sure that your stomach had made the trip. Jihyo turns into a parking garage opposite the large, imposing structure of the police HQ, ascending a few levels until she found an empty parking spot in a corner.

“Fuck, that was good,” she says as she leans the bike on its kickstand and removes her helmet, her hair falling down her back in a dark chocolate waterfall as she shakes her head free of it. Her tone sounded a bit like someone who had just had sex, given her heavier than normal breathing, and the droplets of sweat slowly dripping down the side of her face - she looked like she was about ready to light up a post-coital cigarette. You found yourself only reluctantly releasing your arms from around her waist.

“We’re taking a cab next time,” you say with a groan as you remove your own helmet.

“Oh, come on,” Jihyo says, half turning to you as she makes no movement to turn off the bike’s engine, “you can’t tell me that wasn’t fun as hell.”

“It was fun for like the first twenty seconds - which is about when my stomach decided to check out.”

“Aww. You’re saying it didn’t get you going? Shame. For me, riding a bike is like shooting guns - it always gets me in the mood.”

“Mood for what?” you say, your interest suddenly piqued.

“Shut up, you know what for,” she replies, dropping her helmet to the floor with a dull thud. She takes your own helmet from your hands and drops it next to hers, before she finally gets off the bike, swinging one leg over the front end of it. She takes only a moment to unzip her black leather jacket and slip it off, the heavy outerwear joining your helmets on the floor before she gets back on the bike - this time facing you.

Her hands reach for your face, and soon she is crashing her lips against yours.

Sex with Jihyo was always so refreshing, for lack of a better world. There was no drama, or feelings, or romance involved here; only a recreational activity between two people. She enjoyed sex the way others enjoyed sports, or video games, or any other activity people did for fun. It was to be had and enjoyed, nothing more, nothing less.

You would be lying if you’d said that sex with the young, voluptuous detective atop a still-running motorcycle didn’t excite you, especially after the rather dangerous ride through the streets of Tokyo that she’d just taken you on. The loud, vibrating hum of the motorcycle between your legs, the warm, tight body pressed against yours, and the passionate, warm, wet kisses you were sharing - novelty aside, it was a fucking turn on.

Jihyo is the first to open her mouth and slip her tongue inside yours, exploring your lips and teeth before finding its counterpart willing and able to duel with it. Your hands are not idle - hers wrapping themselves around your neck and running through your hair, yours wrapping around her torso and enjoying the feel of her naked upper back, moist with sweat.

The detective was wearing a blue tube top and a black leather skirt, which made her look a little bit like she was doing a cosplay of Jill Valentine from Resident Evil 3. It was an outfit that did little to hide the curvy appeal of her chest, putting her large, round breasts on proud display beneath its low cut. You are unable to resist for long, diving into the writhing Korean girl’s neck, nuzzling her soft, warm skin with soft kisses before latching on to the warmest spot you can find and sucking. Jihyo lets a soft moan escape her lips, muffled somewhat by the loud running of the bike beneath you both - her hands tighten their grip on your head, her fingernails digging almost painfully into your scalp.

You eventually break off from her neck, the satisfaction that you’d left a mark there bringing a sly smile to your lips. You slowly lower the path of your kisses downward, until you are leaving a soft trail with your lips on her collarbone. Jihyo leans back as much as she can given her awkward seated position, letting you go further down her body, devouring her soft, perfect skin with your lips and tongue.

Jihyo stops you in your tracks with a palm on your chest. You lock eyes and find hers half-lidded in lust as she raises her back off the bike and reaches behind her. As she undoes the zipper at her back the blue tube top sags a little against her chest, almost revealing her completely - until Jihyo finishes unzipping it, pulling it down with slim fingers until she strips it off, dropping it on the floor to join your helmets and her jacket, and leaving her topless.

The sheer lust and audacity of the situation - of having sex atop a running motorcycle in a foreign city’s parking garage, with a detective, no less - drove you insane with need. A part of you wanted to take it easy, savor the feel of this young woman’s body; but the desire to indulge in the newly unwrapped present in front of you was too great for you to resist.

You almost immediately feast on her breasts, cupping both of her large, perfectly shaped mounds in your hands, squeezing them and massaging them, eliciting a long, drawn out gasp from the girl’s lips that you hear with perfect clarity despite the loud, clanking motor beneath her. You capture her swollen nipples with your index fingers and thumbs, tweaking and teasing the stiff nubs with your fingertips until her light, airy moans turn into long, drawn moans.

“Fucking suck on my tits,” she hisses.

You didn’t need to be asked to do so - but the lust dripping from every syllable that left Park Jihyo’s mouth is impossible to resist. You dive into the needy Korean girl’s chest, cupping her left breast with your right hand from beneath before latching your mouth atop the stiff peak of her nipple, capturing it between your lips, your tongue quickly darting out and tasting the sweet saltiness of her sweaty skin on your palette.

Jihyo moans, her entire body writhing and quivering atop the bike as you suck on her large, round breast, drinking your fill of her body as your tongue plays in random patterns on her nipple and your lips close around it, sucking deeply. Not wanting to leave her left breast unattended you do the same to it, latching on to her stiff peak, sucking deeply, licking relentlessly.

You’d known for a while that Jihyo had the most sensitive breasts out of anyone on the team. From the steadily increasing volume of her moans and the way she quivered and shook atop the bike you knew that the pleasure you were creating in her body was far and above the pleasure the other girls received when you did the same to them. Jihyo needed her breasts to be played with during sex; and it was a need that you were happy to fulfil.

For a few more long, glorious seconds you continue to feast on the young woman’s chest, drinking deeply from her large mounds and enjoying the feel of her taut nipples under your tongue or between your lips. Jihyo moans and gasps and hisses her pleasure, the volume of her lustful chorus rivalling that of the still-running engine. Her legs wrap around yours, her firm thighs on your hips - the bike would have tipped over were it not for your feet, flat on the floor, stabilizing it on either side. She leans back atop the machine, wanting to give you full access to her body as you devour it with a hungry mouth.

Eventually Jihyo raises your head from her saliva-drenched breasts, her eyes, drunk on lust, staring directly into yours.

“I want you inside me now.”

You stand, unzipping your jeans and pulling them as far down as you can, thankful for its stretchy, flexible cotton construction. You pull your boxers down far enough to let your stiff shaft, already dripping with pre-cum, to spring from them.

Likewise, Jihyo reaches between her spread thighs to pull the short hem of her leather skirt up, revealing a thin pair of panties beneath that is near translucent with her juices. With two fingers she pulls the drenched cotton aside, revealing her moist, dripping lips; the combination of the hair-raising bike ride, having her breasts sucked on, and the heavily vibrating motor between her legs was getting her off.

“Fuck me.”

You aren’t one to resist such a demand, and so you bend as best you can, bringing the tip of your aching, leaking cock to Jihyo’s moist pussy, the round head of your cock parting her slick lips and finding her needy entrance. Gripping your shaft by the base, you swirl the thick head around Jihyo’s moist folds, her wet lips drenching your tip and eliciting deep moans of pleasure from her throat. You want to tease her a little longer, but the wet, hot, pink tunnel of her pussy beckons, and you are powerless to resist.

With one deep thrust you enter her, and the moan that Jihyo releases as she is filled temporarily overtakes the volume of the bike’s motor. You fill her to the hilt, delighting in the feel of her walls clenching around yours, drenching it with slick juices, grasping it with tight walls. Giving her only a few seconds to adjust to the sensation of being filled, you withdraw your cock halfway out, delighting in how absolutely drenched it was in her wetness - before you thrust back inside. Soon you are fucking Park Jihyo atop the loud, vibrating bike, filling her needy pussy with long, hard thrusts of your cock.

Jihyo seemed in a state of euphoria - the adrenaline in her veins, the vibration of the motor beneath her, and the thick meat filling her needy pussy again and again combining to drive her quickly to the very edge of orgasm, where she lingered for a few moments before quickly toppling over it. It surprised you, having her cum so quickly after what seemed like only a few minutes of fucking - but given her state of need after the bike ride and the way she was getting off on it, you suppose you probably shouldn’t have been surprised at all.

You slow down your pace, but only slightly, enjoying the feel of the detective’s pussy clenching and tightening and pulsating as you enter and exit her body. Each thrust sends delicious shocks throughout her tight frame, her large breasts bouncing erotically up and down, stiff nipples still tight with pleasure, still glistening with your saliva. It’s only with a great amount of effort that you tear your gaze from her bouncing breasts to between your bodies, where between her spread thighs the wet, slippery lips of her pussy are taking you in and out, in and out, in and out.

As delightful as the feel of her pussy was, you are unable to giving attention to her bouncing breasts for long. You give her a hard thrust, eliciting a surprised yelp from the girl as you bury yourself inside her to the hilt. Licking your lips, you bend over her frame and grab her left breast roughly with your right hand, cupping and squeezing the firm mound, pressing your thumb over and around her stiff nipple.

When she moans in lustful pleasure you capture her taut peak between your thumb and index finger, twisting and pinching the bud until Jihyo is moaning and gasping almost uncontrollably. She squirms and grinds on the seat of the bike as the pleasure causes her to lose control of her body, her tightly grasping pussy moving deliciously around your buried cock as she does so.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasps, unable to say much more, unable to keep her lungs filled with air for very long, so often is she exhaling in an unbroken chain of moans and sighs. She grasps the back of your head and almost crushes your lips with her own in a torrid kiss, her tongue slipping fearlessly into your mouth. You pinch her nipple in response, and your mouth is filled with her exhaled moan.

You tear your mouth from hers, and you bend as best you could, cupping and lifting her breast from beneath until you are able to bring your mouth to her nipple. Jihyo arches her back to give you better access as you suckle deeply from her breast once again - this time while you are buried balls deep inside her. After spending a few delicious seconds sucking tightly on her breast you return to her warm neck and re-commence fucking her, thrusting in and out of her tight body once more.

After awhile Jihyo presses a palm flat against your chest and pushes you away - and for a moment you are afraid you’d hurt her by how roughly you are treating her chest or how hard you are thrusting into her pussy. She slowly dismounts both the bike and your cock before turning around, mounting the bike the right way again, her back facing you.

Wearing only a short leather skirt, drenched panties, and knee-high leather boots, Jihyo bends over the front of the still-running bike, draping her upper body over the handlebars. The cheeks of her ass sandwich each side of your glistening cock with soft, warm flesh as she grinds her lower body against it, rubbing your sensitive shaft on either side with her full, round cheeks. You are content to watch the show she was giving you as you thrust your cock between her cheeks for a while, delighting in the way Jihyo moved her body - until she reaches over and spreads her cheeks apart to reveal her absolutely dripping pussy and her tight, pursed asshole. She looks over her shoulder at you, eyes half-lidded with lust.

“Pick a hole and fuck it until you cum in it.”

The very thought of teasing her, of making her wait, didn’t even cross your mind. Likewise, you’d already had her pussy - and as wonderful as her pussy felt wrapped around your cock, the thought of turning down an opportunity to fuck the young woman’s ass didn’t cross your mind either - especially when she wanted you to cum in it.

You grasp the cheeks of her ass, your hands joining hers in spreading her firm, round mounds apart. Gathering your saliva on the tip of your tongue, you spit a thick rope of it between your bodies, landing right on the tight ring of her ass. Taking your aching cock in your right hand and pressing the slick head against her tight opening, you slowly enter her inch by inch, until you finally slip inside her ass. Jihyo was no stranger to anal sex, and certainly not with you - the ease with which she was able to take you inside her rear entrance spoke of both her experience and her desire.

You would later admit to being embarrassed by how quickly you came - but just as Jihyo was so turned on by the situation that all she needed was a few minutes to get off, you were similarly brought to the edge by the audacity of it all. Fucking a beautiful young woman in the ass on a still-running motorcycle in a foreign city - it all seemed so ridiculous, so unbelievable, like some fever dream of sex and lust that could only exist in fiction.

But Park Jihyo’s tight, clenching hole convinced you that it was all very real. Her moans of pleasure reach a new level of volume as you drill again and again into her ass, each thrust into her body pressing her sensitive pussy against the vibrating seat of the bike. Her ass clenches tightly around you, less wet than her pussy but so much hotter and tighter. You bend over her frame and clutch her shoulders from behind as you fuck her tight little hole, not even worrying that you were hurting her - you needed something to hold on to, something to anchor yourself as you pumped again and again into her ass, searching for the inevitable peak of pleasure that was so very close. Jihyo arches her back, her spine creating a delicious looking curve, her caramel skin moist with sweat.

“Fuck, Jihyo, fuck, fuck, fuck, I-”

“Insidemeohgodfuckfuckfuckohfuckfillmyass!”

The words, if you could call them that, spill from Jihyo’s mouth in a barely understandable jumble of lust. Her tight little body quivers with each thrust, her ass cheeks ripple with each impact of your hips against hers, and her tight, hot little hole drives you right to the edge; except she tumbles over it first.

Time had a way of becoming abstract during sex. It might have only been a few minutes. But for you it felt like hours. Hours spent pumping away at Jihyo’s ass as the needy, mewling girl orgasmed once more, the vibrating seat of the bike against her pussy and the thick hard cock drilling into her ass quickly overwhelming whatever remained of her self control, her juices drenching the seat of the bike in slick, clear fluids as she willingly tumbled into orgasmic bliss.

When you cum soon after it takes you by surprise. Usually you saw your orgasm coming, and could prepare yourself for it. Not this time. Not while Jihyo’s ass clenched hard around your cock, so tightly that you almost couldn’t move. Not while she moaned so loudly she almost drowned out the running engine. And not while your cock spasmed and sent thick, hot semen deep inside her ass. The wordless moan that Jihyo gives when she feels you fill her with cum echoes loudly throughout the parking garage, drowning out even the loud noise of the running bike motor.

Time became an abstract concept once again, your pleasure-addled mind unable to comprehend or make sense of things. Eventually, some indeterminate amount of time later, your cock softens enough to slip from Jihyo’s well-fucked asshole, followed closely by a flood of thick white semen that flows down to join the slick patch of pussy juices gathered on the bike’s seat.

At some point - and it might have been just seconds or hours later, you couldn’t tell - Jihyo turns her head to look at you.

Neither of you were quite sure how to react to what just occurred - and so you both begin to giggle at the audacity of it all, neither quite ready to believe what you both just did.

The stupid smiles and odd giggles continue as Jihyo and you eventually clean yourselves up enough to actually meet with the TMPD’s commissioner. Satisfied that you were as ready as you would ever be, you both make your way into the police precinct for your scheduled meeting - even if you couldn’t help but smile at knowing you did so with Jihyo’s ass full of your hot, thick cum.

---

Your meeting with the TMPD turned out to be a bit of a waste of time; aside from providing general reassurances that they would be keeping an eye out for Seulgi and Yeri, the commissioner seemed uninterested with what he deemed to be a Korean affair involving Korean citizens and crimes committed on Korean soil. He assured Jihyo that she and Nayeon, as law enforcement officers, would have full freedom to execute their search as they saw fit, but was unwilling to assign any Japanese officers to actively participate in the hunt, nor would he provide them with access to any significant amount of TMPD resources.

His one concession was his assignment of a Japanese liaison officer, who would provide liaison services as well as assistance with translation, logistics and other local, on-the-ground needs. You tried to explain that you already had three Japanese members of your team and neither translation nor logistics were likely to be a problem, but the commissioner insisted he assign a liaison officer nonetheless, likely only for appearance’s sake and so that he could tell his superiors he was doing something about the case. It was obvious to you and Jihyo, however, that a liaison officer was the bare minimum that he could have done to assist your team.

After exchanging the necessary platitudes and what you and Jihyo both knew to be empty promises of full cooperation, the commissioner ended the meeting and instructed his assistant to introduce you to the liaison officer, who worked on a different floor.

The three of you found the liaison officer at her desk in an isolated corner of the floor, eyes furrowed in concentration, appearing deep in thought. With a large pair of headphones on her head and her fingers working furiously at her keyboard and mouse, she looked to be hard at work at some important casework. She appeared young and quite attractive, if a little slim and small to be a police officer; not that physical size kept police officers from doing their jobs well, if Nayeon was any example to go by.

When she didn’t reply to your initial greeting, the assistant had to walk over and tap her on the shoulder to get her attention.

“Aish!” she exclaimed in annoyance, glaring at the poor assistant before realizing that there were two visitors nearby. Embarrassed, she quickly removed her headphones, dumping them on her desk before standing and offering deep bows to the both of you.

Her headphones, still on full volume, revealed that she wasn’t working at all - instead, she was likely deep into some first person shooter computer game, if the constant gunfire and loud Japanese announcements of what were probably killstreaks were any indication.

On her desk is a nameplate with her name and the division to which she belonged: Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department - Recordkeeping Department. It suddenly became painfully obvious why this particular officer was the one assigned to you and Jihyo.

“This is your liaison officer,” the commissioner’s assistant states wearily, before excusing himself and leaving the room. The liaison officer smiles, cheerfully, before extending a hand to Jihyo and then you.

“My name is Miyawaki Sakura,” the officer states, “hajimemashite!”

---

The rest of the team apparently shared a similar lack of success. When you met as a group later than night in one of your hotel’s meeting rooms, none of you could report much progress - aside from Nayeon.

“I met with a contact I have in Tokyo PD’s organized crime unit,” she announces as she cracks open one of the canned coffees that Dahyun was passing around. “Apparently there’s a high class cocktail party going on in town in a couple of days. Public advertising says it’s an international fundraiser for a new hospital that’s being built - lots of people from overseas flying in for it. But my contact thinks it’s all just a cover for some international high roller crime bosses to get some deals done.”

“Is there any connection to Seulgi, Yeri, or Irene?” Momo asks.

“No, but it’s at least a start. We could go and ask around if anyone’s heard of any fugitive Korean girls entering the country on the down low.”

“What are the chances that anyone at that party could know anything about Seulgi, Yeri or Irene? Surely they’ve got more on their plates than two random runaways and their prisoner,” Mina states.

“Seulgi and Yeri must have come to Japan for a reason,” Nayeon counters. “They could have gone anywhere else in Southeast Asia, especially countries where it might be easier for them to disappear. Japanese law enforcement has international links - it would be a little more difficult for them to stay under the radar here.”

“I dunno,” you start, “the police commissioner Jihyo and I met today seemed like he couldn’t have given less of a shit about those two. He thinks Red Velvet is a Korean problem, not a Japanese one.”

“Maybe the cops here don’t give a damn,” Jihyo adds, rubbing her chin, “but that doesn’t mean organized crime wouldn’t care. They might be especially interested in Seulgi and Yeri given that they used to be pretty high up at SM. I think a lot of unsavory types would be interested in what they know. There might also be some people who Red Velvet crossed in the past, and who are out for revenge.”

“Which is why it’s interesting that they fled here,” Nayeon continues. “Why come to Japan if it would attract attention, possibly from enemies they’ve made in the past? They must be here for a reason. Maybe they have a safehouse in Tokyo, or maybe someone who can help them - or someone who can help them get rid of Irene.”

“Or her body,” Chaeyoung states, grimly.

The team takes a moment to consider Nayeon’s point.

“Alright, we should go - but I don’t think we all need to be there,” you begin. “Maybe a couple of us on-site, two or three running support. A group of foreigners suddenly showing up to a cocktail party full of gangsters might look a little fishy. I’ll go, with a date.”

“I’ll go. I clean up well, and I’m sexy as fuck,” Momo says quickly with a smirk in your direction, “I won’t have any trouble getting men to talk.”

“Too bad your Japanese is terrible,” Sana quips. “I should go. I’m the cutest one here and we all know these hardass gangster boys can’t hold up to a cute girl in a tight dress. And I can speak the language, unlike some people.” Her tone is that of a lighthearted jab towards Momo, but there is a hint of edge to it that only you picked up on.

“He’ll go with me,” Mina interjects with a tone of finality, “he’ll want a classy date. One that all the people there will be falling head over heels to impress. And you both forget...”

Mina swings her glance over to you, although as she does so her gaze passes over Chaeyoung - who blushes furiously.

“...there could be women there that we need to talk to, as well.”

Next to you Nayeon lets out a loud sigh - on purpose.

“Whichever one of you goes on-site, I’ll come along in the van. Tzuyu, you’ll take care of transport and on-site logistics. Dahyun, you can run surveillance remotely from the van,” she states to nods of understanding from the two younger girls.

“You’ll probably need to show up in a fancy car if you want to blend in,” Tzuyu says. “We can’t exactly drop you off in the van we rented. I’ll need to find a Ferrari or something we can borrow...”

You suddenly remember the liaison officer assigned to you from the TMPD, and you reach into your jacket to retrieve her business card, which you pass across the table to Tzuyu.

“Reach out to this officer,” you explain, “she’s the liaison assigned to us from Tokyo PD. She works in their Recordkeeping Department, so she doesn’t have a lot of field experience - but she can probably at least track down a car for us. If nothing else she can go with you to the rental car place to translate. Heads up though, she seems like a bit of a slacker and I’m pretty sure the Tokyo PD commissioner only assigned her to us to get her out of the office.”

“Got it, boss,” the young woman says, picking up the card and looking it over. “You should probably dress up nicely, too. We can go-”

Before she can finish her sentence, a loud ringtone erupts from Dahyun’s laptop - causing everyone in the room to cover their ears.

“I-I-I’m so s-sorry!” Dahyun says as she frantically turns down the volume. “It’s a video call. From Seolhyun back in the Seoul office.” She looks to you for further instruction.

“Bring it up on the screen, Dahyun,” you order, motioning to the large LCD screen mounted to one wall of the meeting room. You were anxious as to what Seolhyun could possibly be calling about - a small part of you feared that Jeongyeon, who was still in the hospital, might have taken a turn for the worse.

Dahyun connects her laptop to the screen, and in a few moments a window with Seolhyun’s face is up on the screen.

“Hello everyone,” Seolhyun says, a nervous look on her face, as though she had just received some news and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Everyone in the room nods back, or gives her a short bow.

“What’s up, Seolhyun?” you ask.

The young woman takes a moment to compose her answer. Her brows furrow, and she bites her lip.

“Everyone, it’s about Irene,” she states, pausing to choose her next words carefully, “she’s still here. In Korea. And we have her.”

---

There is a single spotlight above Bae Irene’s head. The rest of the room is dark. The wobbly, shaky camera work indicates that the video was likely taken with a smartphone, by people in a rush.

When Irene raises her head, she reveals a bloodied lip and a gash above her right eye lid. The blood drips down the side of her face, leaving a crimson streak over pale, snow-white skin. There is the start of a bruise forming on her jawline. The past few hours had not been kind to her.

“My name is Bae Irene,” she begins. “I am the leader of Red Velvet, a division of SM Korea. These are my crimes.”

Irene turns her head and begins to read a list that was clearly held off camera by one of her captors. With each offense you watch as a small part of her breaks. Gone is the haughty, dangerous young woman that was the subject of so much of your team’s work over the past year or so. This woman was broken.

Around the table the girls on your team react similarly - some bringing hands to their mouths in disbelief, others with serious or disgusted or otherwise negative emotions scrawled all over their faces.

It seemed almost surreal, in a way. Unbelievable, as though it weren’t really happening. Was this really the same Bae Irene that had tormented you and your team for so long? Was she really finally in custody? You’d long dreamed of this moment, and now that it was happening, it was almost difficult to believe.

When it is over, Irene returns her eyes to the camera, looking directly at it.

“I deserve to be punished for what I did,” she says. “I deserve it all.”

Irene lets her head drop, but not before a single tear falls down her cheek. The video cuts to black.

---

“They found her in a washroom at Incheon International,” Seolhyun continues. “She was gagged and bound. She had that video in a USB drive in one of her pockets. As you can see Seulgi and Yeri roughed her up before they left her there.”

“She’s lucky she’s not dead,” Momo says, “Seulgi looked like she wanted to kill her.”

“Where is she now, Seolhyun?” you ask.

“Seoul PD has her in custody. Once she’s received medical treatment they tell me she’ll be prosecuted for the crimes she confessed to in the video.”

“SM’s lawyers will argue, probably successfully, that that was a coerced confession,” Mina observes.

“Inform JYP. Keep us updated. Get on-site and make sure she’s processed fairly and that everything is done by the book,” you order. “Bring all the data and other evidence we’ve accumulated to ensure Seoul PD has proof to confirm everything she confessed to.”

“Roger that, boss,” Seolhyun replies.

“Keep us informed, Seolhyun. If anything at all happens, I want to know about it.”

“You can count on me,” she replies, before signing off on the video call.

There is a moment of silence as your team digests this new development. You were all prepared to continue the hunt for Irene, but her capture was certainly an unexpected twist.

“So how does this change things?” Sana asks, a confused look on her face.

“It changes nothing,” you answer. “Seulgi and Yeri are now the primary targets, just as they were when we arrived. Even if they’ve delivered Irene to us, it doesn’t change the fact that they attempted murder on two people in this room, and one back in Korea - even if one or more of those incidents was accidental. We continue the search for Seulgi and Yeri, starting with that cocktail party. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning to start planning.”

The team gives nods of approval before each gathers their things and leaves the meeting room. Momo stays behind.

“Irene will argue that she was coerced into doing what she did because of YG,” Momo says in a hushed tone, once the others have left the room. “Don’t forget, she only did what she did because YG threatened to harm Seulgi and Yeri - and Red Velvet’s families.”

“I know,” you admit. “YG could still be out there. If I were them I’d want to shut Irene, Seulgi, and Yeri up, and make sure they don’t get a chance to talk.”

“We need to find them before YG does,” Momo states. “If we know Seulgi and Yeri are here in Japan, chances are they do too. They could be in-country as well.”

You nod and rub your head. You could feel a headache starting.

---

At that moment, at Haneda International Airport, a private jet touches down. After taxiing to a private hangar in a secluded corner of the airport, the door opens and the stairs leading to the cabin unwind.

Out step four girls. Each is wearing all black and sunglasses, despite the fact that it was late into the evening.

The first has an air of haughtiness to her, as though she felt she were above it all. She would have been attractive and cute, were it not for the seemingly permanent frown on her face. From the way she led them out of the plane and from her overall bearing, it was obvious she was the leader of the group.

The next is a slim Korean girl with pale blonde hair, slight and wispy thin. She has a smirk on her face, and features that looked equal parts charismatic and dangerous. She thanks the jet’s pilot and crew with an Australian accent, although it was hard to tell whether she was being genuine or sarcastic.

The third is a foreigner - the only non-Korean amongst them. Her wildly dressed hair and loose, rock and metal inspired outfit mark her out as a bit of a rebel, although there is still a charm to her face and eyes that make her seem almost approachable and kind.

The fourth, if appearances were indeed an indicator of personality, appeared gentle and pleasant. Like the Australian she offers her thanks to the pilot and cabin crew, but unlike her teammate her words seemed genuine. She has soft, beautiful features, but there is a barely noticeable sadness in her eyes, as though she did not want to be there at all.

They step into a waiting limousine that will take them to Tokyo.

---

Author’s Note:

Two chapters in two weeks? Wtf who am I? lol I got super motivated after the conversations I’ve had with readers recently, so I pumped this out real quick to capitalize on it.

Firstly, I want to thank the anon that gave the idea in an ask awhile back that outlined generally what happens to Irene in this chapter - the more I thought about it the more it made sense. It let me write Irene out, although given the recent news of Red Velvet’s comeback maybe she’ll be back to the story sooner rather than later. :)

Next I want to thank all the readers. This is part 40! I never in a million years imagined I’d be writing this for so long. It still amazes me that people actually want to read the shitty filth I put out. I appreciate all your kind words and hope you’ll continue to support me in the future.

Stay safe and be kind to one another, y’all. <3

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #twice jihyo #park jihyo #male reader #pov smut #twice

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Um one thing i wanna ask is why do you want penny to stay a robot? She would have been hacked again as it wouldn’t make sense for someone not to try it again... ignoring the pinnochio allusion thing cause of course RWBY shouldn’t follow fairytales like a script, but just thinking about practicality as the problem would just occur again.

Also, people complaining about how its a problem they cured her illness (having the virus)... why would you want her too keep the virus when its literally about to kill her and the cure is right there???? I dunno some of the complaints have me a bit confused and i need clarity on them.

Like, If they didn’t grab the relic for themselves, they would have been hunted by ironwood for penny, she would have been killed for the powers to open the vault etc... if they went to the vault with penny without their plan, she would have died... its all a lose lose for penny to me at least

Questions are genuine and I’m not trying to be rude or anything :)

Happy to explain, anon! :D

I’m going to break this up into three parts: The claim that people are upset about Penny’s virus going away, the idea that she’s in more danger as a robot, and the assumption that she had to be made human to fix this problem.

The first is the easiest to tackle simply because I haven’t seen any of this myself. I don’t know why someone would “want her to keep the virus when it’s literally about to kill her.” My guess would be that there’s been some miscommunication at play. I’m not saying just because I haven’t seen these takes doesn’t mean they don’t exist, but rather that I have seen a lot of critical takes since Saturday and they all boil down to the fans being upset that Penny’s android identity was removed, not that the virus was removed along with it. Of course we’re happy about that additional outcome, we just believe it would have been possible — even easy — to achieve that same outcome without taking a core part of Penny’s identity along with it (more on that below).

Secondly, if one of the main arguments for Penny getting a human body is “It’s less dangerous” then I personally don’t find that persuasive. Yes, it means no one can try to hack her again... but it also means Penny can die all the horrible, messy human deaths that she was previously immune from (within the boundary of how long Pietro can give her aura, anyway). We saw it happen on screen. Penny was able to go from this

to this

purely because she was an android. Penny, due to her synthetic body, was able to be torn apart and then — pretty casually it seems, based on Pietro’s comments — be put back together, given more aura, and booted up with absolutely no downsides. Penny shrugged off death with a smile! No human body can do that. So yes, she’s vulnerable to hacking as an android, but she’s vulnerable to everything else as a human, things like Nora’s scars and Yang’s lost arm, things that android!Penny would have shrugged off. Each body has its benefits and its downsides, with my personal belief being that, from a combat standpoint, a synthetic body has far fewer downsides and far greater benefits. But that opinion aside, objectively I don’t think a human body is intrinsically safer for Penny in the long run, especially not after her biggest moment in the series was coming back from the dead. She can’t do that anymore.

Which then touches on our third topic with the question: Why couldn’t the show have fixed android!Penny in a way that ensures she can never be hacked again? See, we have to remember that RWBY is a constructed, fictional story. Nothing “has” to happen. Or rather, nothing has to happen until the writers impose limitations on the text that the viewer expects them to adhere to. For example, if you impose the implied rules of 1. “Our four main characters will make it to the end of the series” and 2. “A character, without aura, will die from a spear through the gut,” then RWBY has to find a way for Weiss to survive Cinder’s attack (rule #1), but that solution can’t be, “Weiss is just randomly okay after a deadly injury, I guess” (rule #2). Hence, we get the solution of “Jaune unlocks his semblance and heals Weiss for her” and it works! It’s a solution that viewers like because it obeys all the rules, both overt and implied. Meanwhile, the problem with Penny’s solution is two-fold. The first is that it contradicts the entire journey she’s been on of “Android girl learns that she’s real and human just the way she is,” which I’ve already spoken about extensively (there are other posts on that), but the second problem is that the show ignores other possibilities and makes up new rules solely to reach this ending.

Why is Penny made human? Because of Ambrosius’ rules. Why do those rules exist? Because the writers said they do in this episode. It’s not that they introduced these rules episodes or even whole volumes ago, thereby requiring that they adhere to them once Penny’s life is suddenly caught up in them (like with the Jaune example). Rather, the viewer only learned these were limitations while Penny was being fixed. So the writers could have just... not included those. There’s no reason why, in developing Ambrosius’ abilities right then and there, the show couldn’t have made them into something a little different. Have Ruby go, “We want you to magic up an anti-virus program that will heal Penny completely, with no chance of the virus returning. Thus, when you create something new, it doesn’t matter if that program disappears. The virus is already gone!” If the response to that is, “But Clyde, Ambrosius can’t create something he doesn’t understand” that’s a rule that the writers just made up. No one forced them to suddenly impose that limitation. It was a choice. Or even if we have to have it for some reason, you’re telling that the group gets to have the schematics for their escape route — essentially inventing a teleportation system because Whitley looked at airship flight paths for a few minutes — but they can’t have Penny or Pietro draw up an anti-virus program? There’s no reason why these rules couldn’t have been tweaked to cure android!Penny.

There’s also no reason why Ambrosius needed to be involved at all. As just mentioned, Pietro exists and many fans (myself included) thought he would be the solution. Imagine for a moment we had a slightly different version of these events. Penny’s virus is briefly halted by Jaune and, finally given a moment to breathe, she asks where her father is. Last she saw, he was floating in a dead Amity after Cinder’s attack. This reminds Ruby that hey, Pietro made Penny! He’s just as smart as Watts and is far more knowledgeable of her systems. Maybe he can help? So the group heads to Amity and, due to the same techno mumbo jumbo that launched Amity in the first place, or had Klein heal Penny after her crash, Pietro says yes, he can get rid of the virus. Better yet, he can slightly redesign Penny so that she’s made un-hackable in the future, using (again, mumbo jumbo) parts from the now useless Amity. But it will take time. It’s then that the group receives Ironwood’s message and learns that they don’t have time. The reality that Penny will not be cured before the hour time limit necessitates that they come up with a creative way of dealing with Ironwood. Enter Emerald. Her semblance can make it seem like Penny is there, despite her being fixed by her dad miles away. We get an extended fight with Ironwood and, at episode’s end, the new and improved Penny catches up, ready to open the vault for them, this time of her own free will.

Now, obviously I just made this up off the top of my head — far from perfect — but a scenario like this:

Remembers that Pietro exists and lets him/Maria as an assistant do something for the plot

Re-uses Amity now that it’s just a floating pile of junk metal

Creates a scenario where we get to see Penny and Pietro confront the fact that she was created to be a tool (sorry I originally made you so easily hackable/put a self-destruct in your brain)

Maintains all the main story beats like Penny’s near escape, Ironwood’s message, and using Emerald’s semblance

Makes space to tackle other issues like the complaint that Ironwood was taken down too quickly

Achieves the desired result of healing Penny without taking away her android identity

Proves that, because we can easily come up with another solution, the idea that she “had” to become human is inaccurate. There were always other options

Hell, we can even ask why the story bothered with a self-destruct threat in the first place. Seriously, why did Watts do that? I have my own headcanons, but the show never says. This act is the entire BASIS for Penny’s conflict and the show didn’t bother to a) say why he’d do this or b) explain why he’d do this when Salem would presumably like having a Maiden to control. It’s counterintuitive and the show never grapples with that. We have no canonical answer here. More importantly, what else changes if Penny’s self-destruct order is taken out of the narrative? Absolutely nothing. She’s still hacked and struggles to keep Amity afloat, still flies to Ruby, still wakes up and needs to be calmed down by Nora, still tells Whitley her order, still fights the Hound, still tries to escape, still tells Ruby to kill her so she doesn’t open the vault, and Ruby still realizes that opening the vault might be the answer. They could have taken Penny to the door and nullified the virus by letting her do what the virus ordered. Penny is fine now, they snag the Relic, and the group proceeds to save all of Mantle and Atlas. The only thing this self-destruct sequence brings to the narrative is a reason to give Penny a human body. That plot-point was introduced solely as an excuse to give Penny a human body. That never had to happen. It’s not that the writers had a story where, by the rules already in place, they truly had to change Penny to ensure they didn’t lose her, it’s that the writers carefully crafted a story that existed to justify their desire to change Penny. That was always the end goal. They decided they wanted this to happen and that’s the problem here. That they took a character who has spent her entire, fictional existence learning to love herself as she is and crafted a bunch of unpersuasive, needless, and contradictory scenarios specifically to get Penny to a place where they could erase all that.

There’s no version of Penny that exists who truly had to get a human body to survive because Penny is a fictional character. Everything she does and experiences is thought up by our writers. Thus, at some point they thought up the idea to erase her android identity for a completely human one instead — the part a lot of people are upset by — and then made some messy attempts to write a story to justify getting that ending.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #Anonymous

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moonlightchess · 3 years

Text

a brief interlude in which a young mortician finally meets his patron saint.

(Diaphanous).

Around five years old, when he first started hearing them. Soft, muted weeping echoing lightly through the cavernous halls just beyond his bedroom door, and by ten he was accustomed to sliding out of bed, yawning, padding to his doorway to step out into the endlessly shadowed maw veining through the upstairs of his family’s home. The moaning creak of the floorboards was easily avoidable if you knew where to slide your feet, which by then he did, and he’d whisper into the dark: “You’re okay. It’s all over now, but stay as long as you need to. You’ll be getting along when you’re ready.” And even then, there was something profoundly tender and melancholy wrapping itself around little Theodore like an aura, to which the ghosts usually responded favorably. On occasion, they’d even slip into his bedroom after he climbed back into bed, gently tugging his duvet over him in thanks.

Sixteen, and Pere introduced him to the family business in the most definitive sense yet, bringing him down into the embalming room. There, he was shown how to drain the bodies, to sew their gums securely closed, to carefully apply powders and lotions to suggest sleep despite death. Pere helped him to remove the heart and lungs of a corpse in the preparation process of the old fashion, despite it having fallen out of favor in more recent years. Bellefontaine, Louisiana, lingered a decade or two behind much of the nation, in every way from embalming practices to racial sensitivity, both topics having already been addressed with young Theodore. “A person is a person, deserving of respect and love and dignity regardless of their skin, wealth, or any other such thing that the ignorant might think defines them,” Theodore senior had informed his small son firmly, long ago, meeting his midnight-blue eyes that were so solemn and sympathetic even then. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pere.” Theodore had not understood, not entirely, back then. But at sixteen, hunched over the dead body of a local bait shop owner whose wife made the softest, sweetest beignets he’d ever tasted, clarity rose sharp and bitter. “Monsieur Dumonde,” had escaped him before he could swallow the words in the interest of professionalism. “I knew him. Used to buy worms from him when the boys wanted to go fishing, but it’s been so long. I didn’t know he was sick.”

“Everyone dies, ti-Theodore,” and he’d been in love with the way his name rolled from his father’s tongue in a thicker cajun accent than his own - tee-tay-oh-doure, Theodore junior. It was enormously soothing, even now as he considered shaving Monsieur Dumonde’s thick mustache away for his funeral - but in the end, he placed the straight razor back onto his father’s table of sharp tools, aware that his decision had been a test. “No. We leave the mustache, he always had one when he was alive. He used to tug on it and laugh at our homemade fishing poles whenever we went into his shop. His mustache was a part of him, and it’s important that we send him to the next with as much of the man he was intact as we can.” He’d been a little nervous, meeting the dusk-colored eyes that he’d inherited from his beloved father, holding his breath.

“Good boy,” and he’d exhaled. “There are many who would have shaved him, cut his hair, put on some strange new clothes he never would have chosen himself. But you, my sweet and quiet boy, you understand.”

Mere had been a dancer, once. Ballet had been her life, her identity, until a careless would-be principal prince had stumbled into her leap - during a rehearsal no less, she’d been denied even the dignity of a grand disaster to end her career in the middle of a soaringly tragic performance - and her ankle had snapped, had never healed properly. She limped a touch even then, bringing sweet tea out to their wraparound porch thick with creeping ivy and heavy flowers bursting open at random, studding the lush green like jewels in a necklace, where her teenage son sat cross-legged on a battered loveseat long since dragged out to face the elements of the swampland. Together, they would count the darting fireflies, tiny pinpricks of golden light waging a valiant war against the encroaching southern dark. “I was beautiful once,” she’d said to him. “They all used to come watch me dance, in the city.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mere.”

She’d only sighed, slipping a hand into the pocket of her pea-green silk skirt to retrieve a shot bottle of bourbon, hoarded from the liquor store in town, and poured it into her tea.

They were both gone now, six, seven years proper. He’d prepared their bodies, and in death all of his mother’s pain and longing had been exposed to him with the first incision into her cold and rigid flesh for the draining, sixty-two years of ballet and resentment filling up the glass reservoir of the tubing’s end, dark red. She’d always done up her soft, honey-colored hair into elaborate braids, draped over one shoulder or both or trailing down her back or even wound up into a twisted crown if she was in a happier mood than usual. Theodore had sat beside her, holding her stiff milky hand with his own and with the other, scrolling through youtube tutorials on how to create the perfect fishtail braid until he was confident.

Pere had gone five years after, the light in him having drained out as clear and real as every fluid in his wife’s body had eventually found its way into the belly of their aspirator in the basement. Pneumonia had taken his mother - she’d always had a poor and fragile immune system - but his father had been just shy of seventy and to this day, at thirty-two years old, Theodore had never been offered a satisfying cause of death for him. “Just his time, sug,” a nurse in powder blue scrubs had tried, patting his hand soothingly and because this was the south, “I’ll be praying for y’all - well, just you I suppose. Oh lord, you’re the only Bissonette left now, ain’tcha?”

He was. They’d left the entire mortuary to him, and with it all the responsibilities of being the local mortician and funeral director at such a tender age, and his head had at first swum dizzily with all the pressure and expectations. Theodore senior and his wife Lisette had been fixtures of their country community, familiar and comforting, always there whenever someone had passed on to arrange flowers and platters of cold cuts, to deliver gentle words to cushion the grief. They’d been known, trusted, but Theodore junior, well. Ti-Theodore Bissonette, so young to be running the whole house himself, and the folk of Bellefontaine just weren’t sure. Until the death of little Suzette Marchande.

Hit by a car, she’d been, some hideous beast driving drunk through the winding access road circling their little cajun town and pointed out toward Nola proper. He was in prison now, but Suzette remained dead, and in his huge, capable hands Theodore had poured every bit of his father’s knowledge and sensitivity into that girl. He’d dressed her in yellow, one of her own dresses supplied by her mother, but he’d also remembered that she’d loved frogs. She’d catch them in the swamp and hold them in both hands, laughing at their croaky sounds, but then she’d carefully deposit them onto some leaf somewhere. “They got big ones, in the jungle. The Amazon,” he remembered her saying when the Bissonettes had run into she and her parents in town once, years ago. “Big as cars, they are. I’m gonna go there someday and study ‘em.”

So he’d bought sparkly little green frog clips for her hair online, pinning it back from her freckled face. Her favorite stuffed froggie, named Monsieur Ourauron, Mister Ribbitt, had been lost in the crash, but he’d found one in the Amazon - or at least on amazon - that looked largely the same. When her parents had seen her during the open-casket service, they’d wept and clutched his hands, thanking him in a babbling blend of French, English and grief. That day had declared the end of one life and the beginning of another, as little Suzette had been delivered unto whatever waited after, but thirty-year-old ti-tay-oh-doure had been manifest and confirmed.

There was something to be said for how tall he was. He would have thought some would find it intimidating, difficult to relate to considering that he was six-seven or perhaps a touch over, impossibly long limbs and a hawkish nose, soft mouth borne of his Mere and his father’s nearly indigo eyes the color of a sky five minutes before the moonrise. His was soft, floppy, peanut-brown hair and a quiet timbre resonating in his voice that was immediately associated with the unthreatening sense of calm authority that his father had once carried around easy as an old sweater. Theodore would take care of everything, Bellefontaine knew. They’d be left free to grieve their lost, because he was here with his huge hands and endless legs and fleeting smile.

He lived alone, now. There had been flings, lovers, Audrey from Nola with her autumn-brown skin and fox-gold eyes, elegant and sure, but she hadn’t stayed long. “This place is charming, but you can’t actually expect to stay here all your life, can you?” she’d told him once, after the sex, the two of them naked and wrapped around each other in his sprawling bed with a gentle breeze from outside floating through his open window. She didn’t understand, and neither did the men, not even sweet Peter with his auburn curls and dimples.

“You’re all alone out here, doesn’t it get boring? Lonely? My god, you live in a mortuary.” His shiver had been all that Theodore had needed to kiss him tenderly and send him on his way. His father had been extraordinarily lucky to find Mere, he knew - so few understood, the nature of a curator of death. The ancient contract they’d signed, the tradition they’d inherited. It was sacred but horrifying to most, because everyone wanted the convenience of their holy order at the end of all things, but no one actually wanted to have to think about dying. About the fact that literally all of them, rich or poor, pious or skeptical, afraid or unafraid, was going to die. The repulsion, he understood, was instinctive, and he’d only made his lovers breakfast in the morning and never called any of them back.

Some of the ghosts never left, as it was, and there were mornings in which he’d make his way into the kitchen to find his black tea already steaming, his chair already pulled away from the table. Some of them had found their peace here with him, and so he’d leave his cello out on occasion so that they could pluck the strings or plink a few keys on his mother’s old baby grand in the living room. He was happy too, his natural introversion leaving him largely content in his solitary life. There were those who sought comfort in his touch after the funerals of their loved ones, holding onto his hands a beat too long as he bade them goodbye, meeting his eyes meaningfully, but he always released them to the hazy swamp air outside. They were hurting, vulnerable, and he was a gentleman.

It rained the night the stranger arrived, or stormed rather - Theodore’s lights had been flickering throughout the manor all night. He’d collected candles and charged his phone, but his power had soldiered on even as the thunder crashed and jagged needles of lightning slashed open the churning charcoal sky outside. He’d yanked open the heavy oak door in response to some insistent knocking, only to find a man roughly his age standing there on the porch. He was oddly untouched by the rain despite no car present behind him, moon-pale, spilled-ink hair thick and soft over limpid, silver-mirror eyes, colorless as a deep-sea creature’s, slicing through the dark.

“Saints alive, are you lost? Are you all right?” The man, he didn’t know personally, but a truth and clarity rolled from him like steam off the swamp, and he felt enormously familiar somehow.

“I wouldn’t say lost, no. May I come in?” His voice, soft and polite, still clear and steady over the storm.

“Yes, forgive me. Please.” He stepped aside, watching him enter, translucent eyes sweeping over the yawning, shadowed maw of the grand old manor’s entryway. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but I’m not taking in any bodies until morning.”

“I understand. Terribly sorry to intrude upon your evening like this, but you and I, we have a matter to discuss.” His accent was not local, nor was it unfamiliar. It felt like a forgotten dream, abruptly remembered, an old song once loved playing on the radio years later.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, Sir. Have you been to one of my funerals?”

“Sweet Theodore, I have been to all of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, idle as a museum patron, gazing thoughtfully up to the enormous and heavily framed oil paintings of Bissonettes past lining the walls of the entryway. “It’s my fault for allowing myself to become so fond of you, but you’ve never really understood just how rare a person you are, have you Theodore? I shouldn’t have come here, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you leave here tonight, that tree would have rendered your car to a smoking wreck and your body to worse. And you, sweet Theodore, you deserve so much better. After all the respect and care and compassion you have shown so unfailingly to myself and my vocation over the years - I’ve come to love you, and you deserve a soft and quiet end. So much sweeter than the one planned for you, I had to make sure you didn’t die in that crash. I had to come here, on this night. For all your kindness, tonight I will be kind to you.”

Drunk, perhaps. Some sauced-up tourist stumbling through the bayou after a bar crawl, but - this far from the city proper? “I’m afraid that you’re still losing me, will you please tell me who you are?”

He turned then, colorless gaze meeting Theodore’s, an echo of sorrow in his faint smile.

“You know who I am.”

In the end, it was true. He supposed at least a part of him had known from the moment he’d opened the door.

“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet you this young in life, but I’m pleased to find you a gentleman, Sir. I can only hope that in the time you’ve allowed me, I’ve done you proud.”

“You and your whole dear family. You don’t know how much I owe you, all of you. You would have lingered, in pain, on life support, for months. It was unbearable, unacceptable. Not you, not my Theodore who has served me so gently and so diligently for so much of your life.”

“I suppose it’s time, then.” He was not afraid. Death, he knew. He’d existed out here in a kind of stasis for years, honoring his patron saint, the man standing before him in a soft black sweater and reaching out to slip an arm through his.

“It is. But I think the storm is winding to a close, and the mists are always so lovely. Why don’t we go see.”

Nodding, Theodore allowed himself to be led to the door, turning briefly to look back just one last time into his beautiful old house, his shrine to a softer death than most knew existed. He’d always done his best, to make the transition as easy as possible for those on their way to some other place, and now it was time to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not for you, no.” The stranger opened the door then, and Theodore couldn’t be sure that the new world laid before him looked the same to both of them, but he smiled at what he saw.

“You were right. It’s beautiful.”

The house and the ghosts left wandering its halls signed in unison with the departure of their beloved Theodore, but the rain had slowed and the moon had risen and they were patient enough to wait a while. Someone would come, someone as warm and bright as him, someone who would take care of them as tenderly as he had, some new Theodore born. In the end, after all, nothing ever really died, and daylight was coming on soon, sure as a promise.

#writeblr #writing #my writing #fantasy #death #louisiana #i'm still feeling shy about my writing but i'm completely obsessed with this character right now #just a little something i hope y'all like it

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lucytara · 4 years

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Bumbleby. Blue. “And now that you’re here realized I need you for survival. I know from the awe in your eyes”

On the day of the reaping, Blake never expects her own name.

She’s never taken tesserae; her name’s in there six times because of her age, and that’s it. It’s her second-to-last eligible year, and she’s six among thousands. She has no reason to expect her own name when some girls in her class have their names in thirty, forty, fifty times - she brushes the nagging anxiety away for days leading up, finding comfort in the words of her family, in Adam, who’s on his last year and isn’t quite as lucky.

“Twenty-one times,” he says, but he’s still scowling. “Could be worse. But it’s still a flawed system. The poorer you are, the less value your life has. Here in Twelve? The Capitol doesn’t even think of us as people.”

Blake’s heard this speech a thousand times, but she hasn’t shared the hardest of his experiences and so she doesn’t stop him. “But what do you want to do, Adam?” she asks. “We can’t do anything. We can barely survive.”

She doesn’t miss the brief, scornful look in his eyes before he masks it with fire. She’s survived easier than he has, with her father as the Mayor, but it hasn’t been easy for any of them. “You’re right,” he says, though his tone’s taken on an odd, darkly thoughtful quality. “We can’t. But victors…” he trails off, shredding a loose leaf in his hand, strip by strip. “If I were a victor, I might.”

–

“Blake Belladonna!”

She rewatches the scene from third-person, as if it’s a dream she’s having, only it’s happening a split second after inside of her own skull. The perfectly manicured hand of their escort dipping a hand into the jar and pulling the crisp, white slip of paper with Blake’s name on it caught between her fingers. Her hazy, disoriented walk to the steps, the hem of her dress batting against her ankles. She’s not there. She’s in the Capitol, watching herself called to the death and starting, already, to murmur about her odds.

But Adam. She sees Adam perfectly.

Sees him step forward to volunteer for a boy whose name Blake doesn’t even know. Sees the crowd shifting uncomfortably, uncertain what to make of the move. Sees some of them clutching their hearts, some of them shaking their heads. And she sees Adam, unable to hide the victorious smirk in the corner of his mouth.

–

“I’m so sorry, Blake,” her father says, his hand on her shoulder as her mother embraces her, weeping. “I never wanted this for you. For any of us.”

If so many people don’t want this, Blake thinks numbly, why do we still have it?

–

Their mentor’s a woman named Sienna Kahn, now in her early thirties after having won her Games at fifteen. She’s tough, hard around the edges, as Blake imagines anyone would be who’s watched countless children die under their watch. Blake doesn’t understand, but she understands - Sienna doesn’t want to get attached.

She and Adam barely speak - her silence falls to the fact that she’s on her way to her own murder. But Adam’s?

Well, she’s seen this quiet intensity from him before. And he’s making plans.

–

There’s more to work with than Sienna thinks there is: for one, she and Adam both know their way around a sword, and she’s no stranger hitting a target with a knife. Teenage boredom, she says when Sienna asks, and despite the doubt, she doesn’t push it further.

I wanted to help people, is the real answer. When I saw how Adam had been treated, I wanted to help. And then I saw how many people were like him, I wanted to do more than that.

“Your father’s a good man,” Sienna says instead, arms crossed over her body. She’s holding a far-off look in her eye, and instantly Blake knows she’s being told information specifically because Sienna thinks she won’t be alive to repeat it later. “He fought for people the only way he could, and I’m sure he almost died for it. I thought he wasn’t doing enough, back then. But I get it now.” She fixates her gaze on Blake again, solidly in the present, still on the same train car to a mass grave. “What do you have to fight for, Blake?”

Adam’s listening for her answer, and she says the only thing she’s thought since her name was called the day before. “Honestly? I don’t know why we’re fighting at all.”

A smile works its way to the edge of Sienna’s mouth, but it isn’t happy. It’s full of regret. “Yeah,” she says. “I used to think like that, too.”

–

They watch the other reapings. There’s a pair of volunteers from One who seem like they come as a set, with equally stupid names: Emerald and Mercury. Then she only really remembers the girl from two, who looks fourteen and innocent, but Blake knows better. The red-headed girl from three, who stands tall. A girl from five, missing an eye. A large boy from eight.

But the one reaping that sticks in her mind from the minute she sees it is the reaping from Four.

A girl’s name is called, and there’s a brief bout of hysteria from the crowd while a girl with long, blonde hair tugs her back and volunteers in her place. The younger girl just screams, but the older girl - Yang - just stands on the stage, slowly putting herself back together. It’s like Blake can see it happening - see her locking her heart away. Putting all that love she has for her sister somewhere it can’t be used against her.

“Pathetic,” Adam murmurs, because he hates weakness. He’s proud to see himself volunteer, steady and confident. “To protect you, of course,” he clarifies, and nothing’s ever been further from the truth.

Strangely, all Blake can comprehend is that she’s looking forward to tomorrow - getting to see Yang in person.

–

Their outfits are stunning, as is their debut. They have a compelling story: the mayor’s daughter from Twelve and the boy determined to keep her alive. It’s a television show, Sienna says. It’s about the narrative.

Blake finds that flash of blonde hair in the crowd. She thinks she sees seashells winding their way down a braid, and a net is woven to create some sort of dress. Yang clearly hates it, but she says something to the boy from her district, and he laughs.

Laughter isn’t a simple thing to come by in the Hunger Games. She decides, for no reason at all, that she likes Yang.

–

After the parade of horses, their team is riding on a high; she’s kept herself grounded, though, unwilling to entertain any ideas of survival. She’s walking to the elevator when she swears she catches Yang staring at her, but she blinks and she’s only met with Yang’s profile, her chin dropped and her eyes averted down.

–

Yang is a mystery in the training room. She spends most of her time at the wildlife stations, learning to tie knots, painting patterns, identifying poisonous plants. She never spars, or uses any of the weapons, really, but she lifts weights, punches a bag around a bit. Blake can tell everyone’s set on edge by her presence, not able to tell the extent of her power, skill, ability. It’s uncommon to hide that sort of thing during training, but her muscles tell their own story. There’s more to her than she’s allowing them to see.

That doesn’t stop Blake from watching her, though. From cataloguing where she spends her time and how it allows her to feel. She’s not as guarded as the rest of them - she seems to like making traps, because she gains this look of concentration as she follows along with the instructor, knotting rope around her fingers. She spends a little bit of time with the boy from her district, and almost against his will, he appears slightly enamored with her. In fact, a lot of them do, though they try to hide it. Blake isn’t the only one who watches her.

She’s so absorbed with the state of affairs that she doesn’t notice who isn’t, but she does notice there’s an energy between her and Adam that wasn’t palpable before, and now it seems to be coating the room.

“Thinking about allies, Blake?” he says over dinner, light enough to pass as a joke but sinister enough to be a threat.

“No,” Blake says, because she’s only thinking about the quickest way to die.

She hopes she can at least see Yang, wherever she is when it happens.

–

Her knife sinks directly into the red dot, signaling a bulleye on their human-shaped target. She’s not paying attention to the show she’s putting on; all she’s really doing is daydreaming while she idly throws knives. It helps her think. Gives her clarity.

They’re easy to flick. Most people don’t understand the wrist movement, the finesse - they tie it to strength, rather than purpose. That’s why Blake’s so good at it; she’s about precision, not power. That’d always been Adam.

Someone is watching her. Actually, as she comes back into herself, many people are watching her, but only one she cares about: Yang, back at the trap station, staring unfettered.

Blake abruptly puts her knives down. The worst part of the Hunger Games, she’s starting to understand, aren’t the games themselves. That’s going to awaken survival instincts, desperation for life - primal, unhindered urges. No, no, the worst part of the Games is now, these few days before, when they’re taken care of so exquisitely, when shiny, beautiful things are dangled in front of them and cruelly ripped away.

“Why?” she can’t resist asking, kneeling beside Yang. “Why did you do it?”

Yang’s eyes haven’t left her, but her fingers stall around the rope, as if surprised by the question. She examines Blake with a strange intensity, but an openness Blake still isn’t used to from any other tribute. Everyone’s either closed off or showing off, genuinity nowhere to be found. Except perhaps the redhead from Three. Pyrrha. She’s been spending some time teaching a much smaller, younger boy how to throw a spear. He doesn’t stand a chance, but Pyrrha must know that.

“Don’t you have someone?” Yang says, drops her gaze back to the knot. “Someone you’d die for?”

Her parents. Her friends. Adam. “No,” Blake admits honestly. “Nobody.” There are no cameras yet. No one to hurt with the admission. Adam had called her selfish, once; maybe he’d been right.

But Yang laughs, once and under her breath. “Maybe you’re better off that way,” Yang says, not unkindly. Her smile’s sad and quiet; whatever memories rise, they’re memories for her to cherish one last time. That’s how all memories feel these days. “My sister is my life.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Blake says, captivated by every word out of Yang’s mouth; how real she sounds. There’s no show; she’s not aiming to impress, or grasping at pity. She’s here because of a choice she made, and she’ll live and die with that. Blake wonders what that’s like: to have a choice. “Not many people would do what you did.”

“Well, what about you, Belladonna?” Yang questions, sitting up a little straighter, expression a sliding door that suddenly gives way to teasing. There’s a tone underneath, though - heavy - like a lingering doubt. “The guy who volunteered for you. To protect you, right?”

She’s close - she’s kept her volume low. She’s not stupid. She’s playing this conversation with an angle, but it isn’t for her own benefit.

Blake turns her head, locks onto Adam’s hand clenched around the grip of his sword, lunging strikes at a dummy. She feels the familiar uncurling of fear in her stomach, a dark and massive shape lingering just below. Ominous and foreboding.

“Yeah,” Blake says, and looks away. “He did.”

Picking up on her discomfort isn’t hard, and it isn’t something she’s actively tried to mask; Yang pauses strangely, gaze flickering between them. She infers, “It’s not a good thing, is it.” And trains her focus on Blake again. “It’s not good that he’s here.”

“I don’t know,” Blake admits. “He - I don’t know. Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“Maybe you aren’t.”

“He wants me to believe it is,” she says finally. “He told me all he wants is to see me safe.”

“And you think he’s lying?” Yang asks, like a story she’s invested in, though Blake isn’t quite sure why.

“I think,” Blake starts, and at last puts into words what exactly has haunted her since the reaping days earlier, “that Adam wants to win, and he thinks he can use me to do that. Use my loyalty to him.”

The knot effortlessly tightens and unravels between Yang’s fingers. It seems to be an unconscious habit, and one she’s better at than her hours at the station might’ve led them to believe. “Hm,” she says, poking her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You’re good with those knives, that’s for sure. It makes sense that he’d rather have you as an ally than an enemy - help him take out all the threats, and take you out himself.”

“Perceptive,” Blake says, impressed despite her dawning horror; she’d been so good at pushing it down, at talking herself out of circles, at trusting him despite the signs. In one conversation, Yang’s forced her to undo all that. She echoes Yang’s earlier words to her. Maybe it’s for the best.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Yang says, and subtly jerks her head in his direction. “With how purposefully he’s showing off his swordplay, I’m amazed he even remembers you exist.” She rolls her eyes. “Men.”

And Blake laughs. Like Yang’s district partner at the parade. It’s accidental, and nearly shocking in its sincerity, but she laughs anyway. She doesn’t have a choice. “Men,” she agrees, and Yang laughs too.

That’s the first time Blake thinks about living.

–

The first time Yang thinks about dying - dying willingly - is their final day in the training center.

Blake Belladonna, beautiful and clever and entirely obvious to everyone but herself, locates her at the camouflage station, attempting to blend her hand into a sandy coastline. She stares quizzically down at the pattern, eyebrows knitting together, and Yang makes the connection with a laugh. “You’ve never seen the ocean.”

“No.” Blake shakes her head. “What’s it like?”

“Well, I’m no artist,” Yang says, wiggling her fingers, “but kinda like this. Blue, green, boundless - sometimes I think about just diving in the water and swimming as far as I can. Swimming away.” She adds, “Salty.”

And then Blake reaches for a paintbrush, deliberately dragging her fingers along the back of Yang’s hand, leaving streaks of blue paint. She pauses; Yang keeps breathing, but it’s a struggle. She says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Yang says.

“Don’t die.” She takes the brush, and swirls it into the yellow paint. “Don’t give up.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Yang asks, almost unnerved at the sentiment, fighting against the way it makes her want to cry. Her skin feels raw where Blake had touched her, and the marks remain.

“Because,” Blake says softly, “I think you deserve better than this.”

“I think we all do,” Yang counters, flaring up - it’s not just me, she wants to say. You deserve better. You. There are so few beautiful things left. You.

“But the rest of us aren’t here because there’s someone we care enough about to protect.” Blake lets it hang between them. “You’re a good person, Yang. Anyone can tell that much.”

Yang’d never understood the Capitol and its fascination with tattoos as a statement. Now she stares at the blue streaks across the back of her hand, and wonders about wearing it forever.

She’d die, she thinks. She’d die for Blake, too.

–

She spars for the first and last time after that, and one of her blows sends the trainer flying off the practice area and into the concrete, knocking him unconscious.

But she sweats the paint off, and finds without it, it’s a little easier to breathe.

–

Their scores aren’t surprising. Adam pulls a nine. Blake gets a ten - Adam pretends to be happy for her, but she sees that facade cracking instantly.

Yang gets an eleven.

“Her?” Adam spits out, clearly infuriated. He’s already seeing red.

“She’s a genius,” Sienna says at the revelation, shocking Adam into silence. “You’re good with a weapon, Adam, and anyone will give you that. But unarmed? You’re nothing.” She jerks her head towards the blonde girl on-screen. “You can’t disarm her. She’ll kill you with her bare hands.”

“Her?” Adam snarls. “If she gets within my line of sight, she’s–”

“You think she doesn’t know how to dodge a sword?” she asks, and Adam bristles once again with no response. “Do you truly believe a girl whose primary skill is hand-to-hand combat doesn’t know how to evade an attack? You’re a fool if you cast her aside as a threat, Adam. She’s the most dangerous one here.”

Blake stares blankly at her picture, wondering if it’s intelligence, if it’s determination, passion, will. Wonders if Yang’s trained for this, if she’s excited, if she’s terrified. Wonders if it’s all just luck, a mixed bag of rot and gold.

But Blake recalls the tapes of the reapings, across every district, and she remembers none of them as clearly as she remembers Yang’s - not even her own. Yang’s; a reaping that wasn’t supposed to be hers at all.

Ruby! Ruby! No!

Armed guards in white holding her back, or trying to, but being no match for her strength.

I volunteer! She hears Yang’s scream in her mind, even now, days later, sees her pushing her way to the platform. I volunteer as tribute!

Or, Blake thinks, maybe it’s just what she’s always done to survive.

–

Blake’s tactic, they’d decided, is mysterious and alluring: she’s to answer her interview in short, vague answers, and smile as though she’s hiding something. It’s not hard. She’s hiding so much from herself already that it barely even feels like a tactic.

Yang goes for sexy and powerful, and she doesn’t even have to try. People in the audience are literally fanning themselves as she’s interviewed. She looks stunning in her dress, her heels, red-lipped and eyes that seem to match underneath the stage lights.

“I just want my sister to know I love her,” she says at the end, a calculated vulnerability that makes every citizen watching want her even more, moaning about how strong and brave she is, protecting her younger sister like that.

“She makes me sick,” Adam says, face warped with hatred, and suddenly, it isn’t her own safety she’s worried for.

–

It’s a diversion. Confuse Adam, make him scramble for a new plan, make him rethink his strategy. Because Yang had been right, and Blake’s instincts had been, too: he wants to win. And when you want to win, everyone else is a target.

So during her interview, she confesses, “I know I can win. But I’ve met someone here who I’d really like to keep alive, even more than that.”

The interviewer goes insane. “Another tribute?” he says. “You’ve met someone here?”

Blake shrugs, pretending to be coy. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

He groans, begs her for details, and she says next to nothing, but the audience eats it up - she sees the camera focus on her as the show closes, hoping to catch her eyes flickering to another tribute. She stares straight ahead, speaking to no one until they’re backstage.

“Adam, not now,” Sienna says immediately, pointing him to the elevator. “Go upstairs. We’ll meet you there.” He grits his teeth, but does as he’s told. Sienna turns on her. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Blake says lowly, “and neither are you. We both know what Adam’s plan is. Or was.”

It’s a statement that forces Sienna into a corner, and she relents after a few seconds of the two of them staring each other down. “You’ll be his first target now, not his last,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“It doesn’t matter the order,” Blake says, brushing by her to the elevator. “I’ve been number one on his list for a long, long time. But I’m not playing the Games on his terms anymore.”

“Well, you’ve given them a hell of a narrative,” Sienna says, following her, reluctantly impressed. “The whole Capitol’s dying to know who your lucky love interest could be, since it’s not him.”

Yang shoves her arm through the elevator door just as it’s about to close. “Mind if I catch a ride?” she asks, stepping inside, her heels held in her hand.

So, maybe Blake should’ve thought through her plan, because at the moment, Yang’s a foot away from her and absolutely the most beautiful girl Blake’s ever seen in her life, and her story for the cameras turns out to be more true than she’d meant it to be.

“Oh, it’s you,” Sienna says, throwing up her hands. Apparently Blake’s staring is noticeable. “Of course it is. Blake, you’re on your own.”

“No, she’s not,” Yang murmurs, and brushes her fingers against Blake’s, hanging between them. “She’s got me.”

–

There’s a vibrancy to her when she disembarks, an urgency to her mouth. Find me, she says, leaning close, grasping Blake’s hand. Find me in the arena. Or I’ll find you. Okay?

“Why?” Blake asks again, unable to comprehend anything Yang does or says, unable to reconcile the motivation behind it.

“Because I want you alive,” she says, and lets go. “I want you to live.”

You’re insane, Blake wants to say. None of us will live except one. And out of all of us, it should be you.

But the next morning, standing on the platform, she finds Yang three spaces down from her, and their eyes meet as if by gravitational pull.

Find me, Yang mouths, and the cannons blast.

#Anonymous #bumbleby #rwby fic #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #rwby #yes...it's a hunger games au. will i continue it? maybe!

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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life-rewritten · 4 years

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Symbolism and Foreshadowing in My Gear and Gown

Watching this show has been a pleasure and also at times, frustrating. And I like to always rant about the negatives because it's important to criticise something so next time these mistakes aren't recreated. It's just the sad result of the potential lost from this show to make it one of the best of 2020. But instead of focusing on the negatives, I've decided to bring in the positives, the reason for why I enjoy mostly the character arcs and the use of subtext, symbolism and foreshadowing to bring depth to the story and characters as they grow and change throughout the show. So here's an analysis of My Gear and Your Gown episode 1-7.

Manipulation, Deceit and Miscommunication

Itts hate for the class system (rich vs poor)

As much as I hate how Irrational Itt was during episode 7. I will admit that it's been hinted to the audience that this is how he will react, and this would be the reason for why he and Pai have relationship dynamic in the university arc. He's like a fuse ready to light up whenever he thinks he's been used or manipulated by the system/world. Itt shows hate and disdain for the rich, and we see this with Pai actually in episode 1 when he thinks he gets away with life quickly because he's rich and he judges him as to be someone who gets things quickly with manipulation and bribery. And he tells Pure straight away he hates that, he hates how the rich can get away with everything because they can play the system.

Next, the one thing he showed some care towards, and the reason for their fight was the club room no matter how stupid it was to fight over. We see how defensive he is of the space for people like him to come and enjoy things. Seeing as it's not easy for him to have the things he wants like dreams and hopes. From the beginning, it makes sense he's possessive of the things that matter to him and that he cares about. He's also lost a version of his moral compass; his mum plus I think his dad had also made him wary of adults and people in general with scheming, backstabbing or lack of loyalty (that he feels happened to his mother before she died of cancer).

Itts oversensitive and prideful personality

So it's like all the stuff he said to Pure in episode 1-2 about hating being manipulated comes back to slap him and us in the face when he realises that Pai took a bribe to tutor him and take care of him and help him achieve his dream to become an engineer. It's not because of him just doing it willingly, but he had other motives. So Pai sending him tutoring lessons still without communicating to Itt that he could care less about the club room makes it even iffier and frustrating to Itt which is why he goes to his house and throws the notes in his face. He's like you're really going that far to get the stupid club room and you won't let it go but what about me and our friendship we've built.

He doesn't see that Pai cares more about him than anything else. All he sees is the first impression he had of Pai which is rich, likes to show off that he's successful and better than Itt and gets away with things through manipulation and bribery that Itt won't be able to get away with. And Pai doesn't try after trying once to tell him that, that's not it, he resigns himself to Itt hating him and refuses to communicate or show that it's not the club room he cares about which is just dumb from both of them.

It's more painful for Pai because we know he had an unrequited love for Itt and he's slowly giving up on the hassle and pain that brings, he's decided he's doomed to keep being alone as his one, and the only hero he cares about hates him and also sees him as a menace. He embodies that, decides to focus on what his parents want from him and the path he was meant to take from the beginning; medicine and give up on things that don't pertain to that.

The consequences of Miscommunication

This is why Itt not returning the earring is sad because it's foreshadowing that the one thing Pai held onto for a representation of rebelling from his predestined path and suffocating future is now lost by the person he trusted the most. (analysed about in this post)

Furthermore, Itt is bad at miscommunication, and it's an annoying thing. He doesn't know how to apologise, and so he hides and proceeds to keep acting like he's still holding a grudge; this is why episode 6 was important it was showing how he works and why it will doom his relationship with Pai. Because Pai is someone who gives up easily and lets Itt stay mad. He doesn't try again to talk to Itt after the small smile scene (where you see the hope leave him to try) and the notes to get Itt to understand his feelings. He just resigns himself to being hated by Itt. And Itt even if he comes to a conclusion he's not as mad, he won't apologise or return because he's prideful and he doesn't know how to do that.

It was Waan and Pure who helped him make up with Pai in episode 6, and they seem okay with their own friendship and not willing to help bring the two together again to discuss. Which is sad and frustrating, but it's their business. Itt's over sensitive and prideful ego is what causes him to hurt Pai without truly knowing what it did to him. I'm guessing in University he'll get to see and understand, but I haven't read the book to see if it's just as angsty or if it's fluffy and he manages to reunite with Pai. Also, he seemed to slowly be getting close to recognising his feelings for Pai in episode 6, and I wonder if when we start university arc in episode 8 if he already has come to terms with it or if he still doesn't know he has them. Hopefully, he puts two and two together, and that's why he's chasing after Pai and helping him secretly in the trailer.

The loss of the earring: Foreshadowing and Symbolism

The use of earrings in My Gear and Gown

Don't think I have to spell this out too much, but the earring to Pai represents two things for him. In the rooftop scene in episode 7, he's so determined to hold onto these two things so he can be happy. Still, upon Itt refusing to give it to him and losing it forever, he resigns to the fact that these two things weren't meant to be his. Hence he becomes more robotic and following life rules ordained for him and accepting his loneliness as a norm. The earring represents:

1. Itt to Pai

Itt manages to because of love and feelings pierce through Pai's walls and make him actually want to hope for something more for himself. He's so in awe of how great Itt is when it comes to strength; caring for his mum and being an all-star athlete. He's so grateful that despite disliking him, Itt still came to his rescue. And his feelings are uncontrollable, but he enjoys being with Itt because it makes him feel like he's doing something for himself. The earring is also not perfect when he first sees it, it's missing shades of colour and looks from afar like a rock/brick (which is what Itts name is in English).

The imperfections of the earring point to Itt and the way he's imperfect but Pai can't help but love that about him. It's like his life as a rich heir to his family's hospital is ordained to be on this perfect pathway, he must be smart, reasonable and on top always of everything. He must keep the reputation and dreams of his parents and family, and Itt shows up and shows him that it's okay to have little imperfections here and there it's okay to actually skew of that path, he gives Pai a reason to want to act out and discover what he truly wants for himself. And to break away from that lonely monotonous cycle he's found himself in from when he was born.

2. The hope for freedom and free will.

Again the conversation when Itt convinces Pai to get the earring is another sign of what the earring means to Pai. Instead of being selfless and just thinking of others, he can do what he wants to do, can find his own voice and opinions because he's human not a robot he doesn't have to stagnantly follow all the traditions and rules set before him. He can act out and learn what he truly wants in life.

Pai clings unto the earring because he holds onto that message, helping Itt and Tutoring Itt is the first time he does something he wants to, piercing his ears is the first time he does something rebellious and freeing. He's happy and feels less suffocated by all that is around him. Being with Itt and wearing the earring reminds him of what Itt told him he's free to make choices and to decide for himself what he wants.

The loss of free will and hope of love

It's why the rooftop scene is painful, Itt holding back the earring, acting like he threw it away is a representation of Itt throwing away Pai's idea of free will and self-agency. Almost like the hope and glimpse at what it would be like to do things for himself and skew of the path is now closed because he realises it hurts him. It results in him ending up being hated, pushed to the side and taken for granted.

Just like with love the earring being lost represents love being removed from Pai's life because he decides to not rebel or find what he wants; there's no point when in doing what is ordained for him he'll be successful and protected from hurt and pain. He decides as Itt walks away and his mission is done to throw away all those thoughts and forget about Itt and love. And it sucks.

Losing the earring in episode 6 foreshadowed that Itt was going to lose Pai, or Pai was going to lose Itt in this case, and it immediately coincided with Itt over hearing about the bribe. That's why it hurts because the title my gear and your gown focused on the two earrings of these two, we've only seen the gown side of things with Pai, and so it's time to see Itts own link to the gear earing he finds later on.

The loss of Pai’s Glasses

I also want to mention Pai's glasses. They are also a symbolic tool of his real self and clarity. Itt fixing them for him in episode 1 with a bandage shows what Itt is to him a healing influence for when his life seemed suffocating. But it also represents Pai's actual self and his need for clarity. For him, it's like losing his glasses is like losing a part of himself and also losing the ability to see makes him vulnerable, scared, hurt and weak.

Itt shows up and protects him, and helps fix it. In University Clarity has been lost, Pai's real self has been hidden and pushed down, and he's just a shell, the only thing I'm guessing making him interested in life again, is the introduction to someone known as Mr 950 who seems to keep an eye out for him and help him. Pai no longer wears his glasses as he mentioned in episode 1 and that shows that he's lost the most prominent symbol important to him something he actually did connect with, and a part of himself. He's become entirely the person he wanted to not be, the robotic stoic, monotone person who has to do what's right and be successful. He's also given up on clarity when it comes to love, he's lost any need for it, and he's shoved down those parts of himself that cared. This is why his glasses are heavily talked about at the beginning of the show. They represent him just as much as the earring represents Itt to him.

So yeah we're about to get into University, and it's going to be fun and nice to see Itt finally have to do something to win Pai back. Cannot wait to see who Mr 950 is and how Pai will return back to his hopeful romantic self again. And how Itt will make up for what he's done. Hopefully, the show picks up its pace and actually comes through with a good university arc to make up for the issues we've had so far with it.

MORE ANALYSIS ABOUT THE THEMES OF THE POSTS HERE

#thai bl #my gear and your gown #MGYG #ittpai #pai x itt #bl drama #gmmtv #analysis #cwg #fvete #win pawin #marc pahun

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angelicichor · 4 years

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May I request a RZ Mikey finally finding his childhood friend (s/o) that he loved and used to play with and protect before he was taken away? Like they were so sweet and kind and missed him so much when he left

Yes!! Gosh I was waiting for someone to request something for my baby Mikey °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

And I’m sorry for this one bc it’s so long and I messed up SO MANY TIMES, but I hope it’s still good enough 💔

Words: 4000+

Dearest

As the man stood on the street, eyes focused at the stars shining above him, he heard a soft hum in his ears. The rush of blood, fading, replaced with the howling of the chilling autumn wind, the playing of crickets in the grass, and a faint sound of an alarm going off in the sanitarium behind him.

He looked down to his hands, red, coating them fully, gore stuck under his fingernails, but they felt light, without the drugs in his veins, left unchained, unbound and as his messy, dirty blond hair was moved along with the breeze, tickling his neck, he realized that he was, for once, free.

And for a moment it overwhelmed him, the space, the air, the wind, the stars, the clarity of his mind, as his brain processed his situation, no more drugs, no more nurses, no more Loomis, no more emptiness, he didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to wander with his mind to pass the hours, days, months, following a schedule that they set for him, he didn’t have to listen to their tired voices, to the hateful names that they threw at him under their breath, thinking he was drugged too hard out of his mind to hear them. There was no more “Mikey”, there was “Michael”, free from his prison, free to do as he pleased. What a good feeling it was.

His head shoot up for a moment, his hand reaching out to search for something in his pocket, almost frantic, his breath stopping as he found it, a small picture with him and what used to be his closes family on it, his thumb passing through his little sister’s face, slowly, with love and longing. That, he told himself, organizing his mind, would be his priority, he had to get the family back together. Find Boo, somehow let her know it’s him, he knew her name, knew where she lived, he just had to get there, just had to…

Suddenly his ears rang, a high pitched noise making him wince, it was unpleasant, distracting, but he knew what it meant. He needed to rest above all, let the things they’ve been forcing him to take get out of his system, needed a safe space, but where?

His house was out of question, it was sad, but he knew that would be the first place they’d check once the police realize he’s the one who escaped.

Just get to Haddonfield. His mind settled and he allowed himself to sigh for once, there was nobody around, it was fine, for once it was just fine.

To say his mind was wandering would be an understatement, no, it was an unstable concoction, filled with plans, feelings, thoughts, and memories, the last he needed to focus on the hardest as he made his way through the grass fields and then forest, trying to recall how he got to that cursed prison in the first place, it was with a car, an officer pulling up to the sanitarium with him inside the back seat, silent, observing his surroundings, half-aware of everything, the anger he felt before he killed his father, sister and her boyfriend slowly fading then, being replaced with a silent fear.

All he wished for then was to just go home, to his mother, his little sister, he wouldn’t even mind going back to school. With his father and sister gone there would be just so much less for him to worry about, school would be just a side noise, something to grind his teeth through and come back home, to his little darling sister, to his loving mother, to his family.

But they had to lock him up.

Michael had no real sense of time as he walked, just a goal and a general idea of direction, and a truck wash slowly crawling it’s way into his vision. Good.

He tried his damn best to please the doctor in the beginning, answering his questions truthfully, hoping he would understand, but all too quickly did he realize that no one really cared for what he said. So at one point he just went silent, why talk, when nobody listens? It was easy too, even if Loomis was impressed by his ability to not utter a single word in 15 years.

“Learn to live inside your head…” the orderly said something like this to him all those years in the past, so that’s just what he did, memories of his past running on repeat, mixing with the every day talk of the nurses, the screaming of other patients, the eventual alarms or music, stopping only when he was sat down in front of his doctor. He listened to him, didn’t react, just out of pure curiosity, because that damned fool liked to run his mouth and sometimes a few things would slip out. Things he could use.

The grayed blue coveralls kept him warmer against the autumn wind and the boots made walking less tedious. He did have to leave a body behind for them, but that was good, something to distract the police, so there would be less looking for him. He’d figure that they knew he was gone by now, so if they get just a few more places to check for him, what’s the problem? He’d be long gone before the report came, anyways.

Between the memories of his abusive father, his neglectful sister and his mother and little Boo’s smiles, there was another thing that would run by a bit foggier, he could never grasp it fully, too focused on his rage and longing, but it was there. A face, a smile, a pair of gentle hands helping him up from the ground, their voice angry, but not at him, someone else, one of the louder, antagonizing voices, but one that he had already shut up in the past.

That memory was getting stronger now, the closer he got home, he could feel it.

As the warm lights of Haddonfield brightened the dark night from afar, Michael’s heart tightened. He hadn’t even realized.

The little light shows on all the houses, the running children, dressed as monsters, the carved pumpkins and those fallen leaves that crunched under his boot as he walked through the forest, knowing well enough that if anyone saw him, there would be a cause for alarm. He broke into one of the first houses, chocking out a woman’s life the moment her mouth opened to scream. And the realization hit him even harder as he noticed the fake cobwebs on the ceiling, the fake zombie on the corner that bobbed it’s head when pressed, Michael’s lip twitching in an amused smile under his mask at the sight. It was Halloween.

What irony that those idiots would get him a chance to get out of his prison on the anniversary of his arrival there.

“You always get in so much trouble, Mikey!” the voice rang in his head as he stalked the neighborhood, snuffing people’s lives one by one, just to stay hidden for everybody else. “I don’t want to… they’re just idiots…” His kid self replied and the shyness he felt back them hit him even now as he stood starring at his old house in the distance, from a safe space between the trees. It was run down, empty, the wood darkened a lot during those 15 years and he could see how close everything was to collapsing, but it still made him somewhat calm to look at it.

There was no police around, not yet, no noise that would point to them either, no cars. So going against his first plan, he went inside.

The board creaked under his weight, but he couldn’t blame them for complaining, he wasn’t unaware of how much he’d grown during those years, it wasn’t their fault.

“Geez, 2 inches?! How could you!” they laughed, giving him a slight push, but he didn’t return it, just giggling instead. “AND you’re going soft on me?!” they seemed offended now, their cheeks inflating and brows furrowing.“What?” he asked back, confused at their anger, only to be pushed again, this time letting himself wobble onto the floorboards with a fake huff. “What did I do?!” he laughed back at them, seeing them stand above him, arms crossed under their tiny chest. “You think I can’t handle you just because you’re 4 inches taller than me, Myers?” they squinted at him and he felt his cheeks burning up slowly.“N…Yeah… I mean…” he stuttered, God, was he horrible with words.So it was a blessing when they reached out to him, helping him up like they did so many times, even if he noticed that their pull was much weaker than his own now, but it was good, they’ve protected him for so long, it was his turn to do the same.“It’s fine, Mikey…! I was joking!” they smiled and he felt his stomach clench, nervous like never. “Really. I mean… at least you can reach for Mr.Bernard next time my sister puts him on the fridge!”.“Y-yeah… I could.” he returned their warm smile and felt his body wobble again as they pushed him playfully. This time, he did the same.

The wooden board gave to the pull his fingers finally and he reached deep in, pulling out the thing he had hidden all those years ago, a white latex, a bit rougher in his fingers, or were they rougher themselves? He couldn’t really tell. The mask that he killed his sister in. He was glad to see it was still good to use. He’d need it, the paper one on his face was already giving in because of all the blood.

“Mikey?” they seemed a bit quiet today, so their voice made him shoot up, blue eyes starring deep into theirs.“Yeah?”“Why do you always wear those things? I mean, they’re nice but…”“I… They make me feel less ugly…” his head lowered, followed by the slump in his shoulders. “Huh…” they sighed, taking his mask off their face and he was happy for that, they were too cute to wear them anyways. “But Mikey… You’re pretty anyways…”And the sincerity in their voice made him put on another mask, one made of his hands, hidding his reddened face in a hurry. How could they be so cruel?!Standing in the thicket he had a perfect view of the next house, the one he knew she was in, they called her Laurie now and she wasn’t alone in there, there was another girl that he didn’t know and he knew that would be a problem, but his mind was made.

Or at least he thought so, that is, before noticing somebody else, heading out from the same building Laurie was in.

They’ve grown, but not as much as him, and he could see that their hair still refused to obey their wishes, and their eyes seemed a bit more tired, but he could tell, it was them, it was you, the same that would protect him so many times, show him kindness, try to understand him when everybody else would just throw insults at him. You’ve changed so much, yet as he looked at your smiling face the same flare rose in his heart, the same longing to be next to you, to embrace you, to call your name.And he almost did, but the burning in his throat stopped him, muscle on the brink of collapse, throwing him into a coughing fit that he tried so hard to cover and he realized that, maybe, just maybe, becoming a mute was a mistake.

“Thank you for having me over, Laurie…” your tired face lighted up at the blonde girl and she shook her head, returning your warmth in kind.“No problem, (Y/N). I’m still mad that your mother would make you watch her house on a night like that. I mean, I love the lady, but come on!” the blonde laughed and you felt your heart tighten slightly. It was always hard to face her, her resemblance to him haunted you every time, her long hair, those chubby cheeks, the way she smiled, but you could never tell her, no, she was separate from that family now, but you knew them too well to forget.“It’s fine, really, I didn’t have any plans anyways. Halloween is still a sore spot for me.” the laughter in your voice sounded so pained and you hated how your emotions would leak through, but she knew not to question it, letting you go on your way, two houses from hers.

It was cold and while you were thankful for the sweater the girls gave you, it wasn’t nearly enough to stop your shivering. Good thing you didn’t have a long way to go, but the chill on your spine was unpleasant never the less.

The door opened with the click of the key being twisted and complete darkness welcomed you inside, it was something you used to be scared of, but grew accustomed to, knowing where the light switch is, even if it was stupidly far from the door, a mistake of the past that was your father’s fault. With a flicker the living room came to your vision and you sighed at the mess, knowing damn well that this was exactly what three days of being a lazy, sad ass looked like. “I need to clean up, huh…” the plastic pumpkin in your hands slid onto a table as you bent down to undo your boots, just to sit down and ignore your own words, nothing new there. You could clean tomorrow, but today the energy to do anything was gone.

Today was his favorite day, you remembered, cradling your knees up to your chest with a heavy sigh. Every year you’d go out together, along with his mom, since your parents were always unwilling to go, complaining how it was a pagan holiday and not something a proper Christian should celebrate, but they didn’t really stop you either, showed how much they cared. You two would always run ahead of his mom, only to hesitate before the doors, arguing quietly who’d be the one to ring, until either his mom caught up and did it herself or the ruckus you two were causing forced the inhabitants to open the door anyways, to find you and Michael pulling each other’s hair in a soft tugging war. Then, at the end of the night you’d sit together at the table, waving your legs and counting the candy you’ve gotten, sharing if either got less and you’d always take away his candy corn. He liked it, but not so much and he’d much rather have your jelly beans. It was never a fair trade, but the face he made whenever you agreed made you giggle like crazy.

The memories brought warmth to your face and soft tears to your eyes. You were well past crying, accepting what the boy you had spent your childhood with had done, and that you’d never see him again, with his mother gone there was no one to save him from the sanitarium and there was no way he could ever get out himself. Sure, he was always bigger and stronger than you, but he was also a chubby kid, other’s pushover and you doubted being held in a cell with mentally deranged people did him any good.

If only Loomis had allowed you to meet with him… But then you were too young, not even family, and now he said that “The boy’s just too dangerous.” and you had no right to oppose that statement. Michael would never hurt you and you’d never hurt him, you knew that, but the old man refused to listen.

Just as you were going to stand up, a soft thud alarmed you, coming from upstairs. A small grin rose on your left cheek. “Mikey?” You called out, thinking it was your cat, who you’ve named lovingly after your past friend, coming down from an evening hunt. You heard a loud meow from upstairs and rolled your eyes, he was being a little prince again, you figured, threw something off the shelf and now required your attention to bask in the mess he’s made. “Coming, baby… Don’t make any more mess, okaaaay?” a lack of response was normal procedure, so you threw the sweater still covering your body off, revealing an over sized Kiss t-shirt. Another thing that reminded you of him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandoning the band just because it hurt to remember.

With a minute passed you walked into the upstairs bedroom, looking around to find your baby, surely enough finding him at the edge of the light that came from behind you, seemingly tense. “There you are!” you hummed, stepping inside the dark room, pulling Mikey into your arms lovingly. “Did you make a mess again, Mikey? You little rascal?” you cooed, but the cat wasn’t having it, his back tensing and hair shooting up, a low hiss and a mrow escaping it’s jaws. “What’s wrong, kitty? Is there a–” your head turned and rose to inspect the direction at which your cat was hissing, only to freeze in place, your hands opening enough for it to jump down, rising it’s spine near your now trembling legs, trying to defend you, the white spot in the dark resembling a head turning down to it, tilting to the side in confusion. “W…who…?” your voice snapped it’s attention back to you immediately, and your whole body trembled under it’s stare, your leg pressing lightly against Mikey to get him to run, your heart rising to your chest, beating in an almost painful manner. “S…sir? You… you shouldn’t be here…” You tried staying polite, letting your leg take a slow, almost unnoticeable step back, every muscle in your body ready to dash away. “How did you even…” you looked to the side and noticed an open window, which definitely was closed when you left. Closed, but not locked, you reminded yourself. “Oh…”

The next stop was definitely noticed and you could see the figure tense, shifting slightly forward, enough for you to make out it’s massive shoulders and fingers twitching against the handle of a… “Oh no…” you whimpered, noticing the red glint of a blade coated in gore. That was enough for you to bolt out, fighting your balance to not stumble onto a wall and instead bounce off it to grab onto the stair’s handrail and rush a few steps down.

The invader was way faster than you, though, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and pulling you back, the impact making you scream out in pain as tour spine met the steps and then something grabbed onto your wrist and the back of your neck, dragging you up, your eyes closing in panic as you felt the hard surface of your attacker’s chest against your back and his arm and bicep holding your head still, his other hand shooting up to your arm, catching the elbow that tried to hit the man’s side, overpowering you all too easily and twisting your arm back, drawing another, softer scream out of you, followed by a whimper.

“Please… Please no…” you begged softly, feeling the man’s face close to your neck, his chest pressing into your back a bit harder, his grip unrelenting and your eyes caught a glimpse of his knife again, held in the arm that was choking you still. “Please, please, please… what did I do?” you whimpered softly, letting your legs kick slightly against the handrail still in front of you, but a strong pull on your arm warned you to stop, so you did, still wriggling uselessly.

Then you heard it. It was small, naught but whisper, but growing louder, words, rasping, stuttering, sounding painful, as if the throat that spoke them hadn’t been used in ages, but the more they repeated the easier it got. A low, rumbling “Calm. Down.”, like a scratched record, playing on repeat, but slowly you obeyed and with every muscle letting up in your body, the hold on you lessened as well, to nothing more than an awkward embrace. You could swear you heard a sigh of relief coming from the person.“Are you… are you going to kill me?” against your better judgement you asked and you felt the head on your shoulder rise, shifting to his blade, before the arm around you sprung into movement, stabbing the weapon into a wall, returning to hold you again, and you felt your arm become free again, the assailant searching for something in his outfit.

His hand rose before you, placing a piece of paper in your trembling palms, holding onto them for a second, as if trying to calm them down, a breath like a cuss escaping through what you now realized was a latex mask, and he moved away, giving you your space, but watching carefully from behind you, you could feel his gaze, there was no doubt about it.

Carefully you opened the gift, making sure not to rip it, too scared of what the man would do if that happened. And then your heart stopped, only to return with a beat much slower, softer than before, as you inspected the photograph, recognizing the people on it instantly. “Oh… that’s the Myers family…” you laughed quietly. “Deborah, little Angel and… and Michael…” your voice hiked speaking the boy’s name, still too close to your heart to speak of normally. There was some shifting behind you, something you understood as the nudge to continue and you’d realized that he might want you to tell you where they are. “If you’re looking for them… I… I can’t really help you, sir. Deborah is dead, committed suicide because of her grief, Angel is… she’s her own woman now, and Mikey he…” you felt tears swell up in your eyes, your thumb lightly brushing against the boy’s face, fighting to contain the shakiness in your voice. “He’s been taken away… And they won’t let me see him… I don’t even… God I don’t even know if HE’S ALIVE. I…” there sob that left you was ugly, but honest, speaking of ages of repressed emotions flooding your brain. “I’m sorry… I know I’m useless… I…”

There wasn’t a proper ending for your sentence, as you felt the man’s weight on the floorboards behind you, pressing them in as his knees fell to the ground in a quiet thud, his hands then lifting your chin to look at him. You had never thought that seeing a pair of eyes could make your heart break, but it did.

Your gasp was audible and you could see the second of panic that reflected in them, his hands retreating hastily to his tights, letting you move on your own, to turn, to stare at him, even if his gaze wouldn’t meet yours again, to get closer, to touch his now sharp jaw, covered in a thicker stubble, to run your thumbs on his cheeks, his features relaxing under the much needed affection, he worry in his thick brows relaxing, as his whole body shuddered in relief, understanding that it had clicked, that you knew, his grayish-blue eyes rising again, and your mind filled with worry, seeing how tired he looked, mentally exhausted, even his long, dirty blonde hair reflected that, falling onto his shoulders in a cascade, tangled and wild. And finally your mouth moved.

“Michael…?” you asked, shakily, feeling his hands wrap around your, swallowing them, fully. His nod was enough for your grip on his cheeks to tighten, taking in his image, he was so fucking beautiful, ragged, destroyed with time, but as angelic as you had remembered. “Oh god... OH FUCK Michael!! Mikey!!” you cried, crawling onto his shoulders, enveloping his head that rested anxiously on your chest, hugging tight, petting his hair and crying into it at the same time, but he let you, there was nothing he craved at this very moment more than your touch. “Michael, Michael I missed you so much!! I’m so sorry!! I’m so--” your forehead pressed against his, and he hushed you, his rough fingers moving onto your cheeks, swiping the tears away, a soft smile rising on his face, contradicting his rough features, his blues focused on you and you only, taking in the red of your cheeks, your quiet sobs and your warmth. And by hell, were you the most beautiful thing in the world for him now, the brightest star in this dark night.

He tried to speak, but again his body betrayed him, sending him into a coughing fit, but this time you were there to catch him, pet his back with actual worry, treat him like a human, like he deserved your love and it broke him internally, allowing tears to creep their way from his eyes to your shoulder that he clung to in desperation, seeking out more of you unable to convey how much he missed this, you, next to him, protecting him from this world, telling him everything is fine, ignoring the blood on his hands, his disgusting, dirty body, the ugliness in his heart, just so he could feel safe.

“Come on, Michael...” you sighed, trying to stand up, but to no avail, as he held you down and you pouted. “Mikey... you think you can just hold me down like that?” to your surprise he nodded his head, not moving it away from your chest, making you blush slightly at his stubbornness. “You... COME HERE!” and with that your hands rushed to his crow’s nest, ruffling it aggressively, creating even more mess and giggling like and idiot when his arms shoot up from you as he let himself fall in surprise, only catching your hands in a tight grip once his back hit the floor, keeping you above him and you yelped, starring down at him and his furrowed brows, letting a bright smile rise on your face, which got him a little confused.“Geez, Mikey... you really gotta cut off on wearing those masks...” you sighed, content, relaxing your hands, barely noticing the slight hint of anger mixing with worry in his eyes. “You’re beautiful without them.” And like in the past, a bit of blush shaded his face, his eyes moving away from yours in a silent panic, unable to take the complement, letting you fall onto his chest, strong and firm and oh so warm in this autumn night.

And you sighed, relaxing into it with a shy blush, realizing that you’re going to have to discuss a lot of things, but that could wait a bit, just a tiny moment. Right?

#michael myers x reader #rz's Michael #Halloween 2007 #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #rz!michael x reader #virgo writes

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: In Your Head, In Your Head, They are Dyin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Geez, open my big fucking mouth much? Oh Jane, could you go to the Citadel? But why shouldn't you? You said you had spent time there; you're the one person who knows how to get around. She half-assedly kicked at the locker at the foot of her cot, besides, Rogers is too green. We need someone with experience leading the team. It would be best if you kept busy; civilian life doesn't agree with you.

They couldn't order her around.

Jane craned her head, taking in the entirety of the beam that would catapult her into the Citadel. A frown was the sole betrayal of her panicked nervous system, she would never be ready to go back there. But this was not the time for fear, not when Biotic's Division looked to her guidance. At least she could hide the apprehension- they looked like they could piss themselves at any moment. Jane knew the beam wouldn't lead to death but they were not so confident. It seemed insane, she got it.

Roy and Helen talked amongst the students, leaving Jane some time to collect herself. The last time she had approached the beam the entirety of Hammer had died to get her here, it seemed too easy now that it was a simple jaunt down a hill.

"You sure this thing won't vaporize us?" Roger's question interrupted her solitude.

"I'm not saying it's going to be pleasant, or you'll like what we're going to find-" distress crossed the 2nd lieutenant's face, this was the wrong approach, "if Anderson's team could make it to activate the Crucible, I think we will be fine. Besides, think of the bragging rights- being the one to restore communications with the Citadel, and eventually with the rest of the galaxy. It's not a small thing."

"But I'm not leading the operation," Rogers's hadn't taken the forced deference to the Recruit well.

"Believe me, kid, you'll be glad for all the calls you didn't have to make." She had refused to lead on principle, even after several others had tried to guilt her for refusing the mission. Jane wouldn't have stepped up if not for a series of harsh conversations from Mr. Alenko, most of them implying he would take the mantle if she would not, "get the team into place, we leave in two."

Roy and Helen naturally separated from the group, not away from the mass of students but toward her. Roy led a step ahead and Helen fixing her with the usual judgmental stare from behind her husband.

"I'll be fine," the woman snapped the M-77 into a ready form, "it should be easy."

"Be careful."

How many times had she heard that? To boot, in the same somber tone. The last time, so physically close to where they stood now. It was an odd irony that his father stood closer to the beam than Kaidan had managed to get.

"Thank you," regret was a hell of a thing, so unprompted she grasped his hand unflinching under that whiskey-hued gaze. For a blip of a moment, she looked forward to coming back. Hope returned in a microdose.

The students lined up as ordered, each reaction as individual as the person who stood before the blue light while they wouldn't argue with the mission: it didn't mean they had to trust it. Jane would question flinging herself blindly into the beam, she had at a couple of points. On Illos, she at least had the Mako to give her the illusion of safety, here for the second time only experience made her undaunted besides the emotional toll.

"Alright, the mission is simple. Meet with Bailey or whoever is left in charge. After that, we worry about setting up the long-range commlink," it was better to put this off as a simple run, when things got complicated, they would deal with it then, "on arrival, where exactly we'll end up is a mystery. This functions much like a Mass Relay, so small groups and make sure your ass is out of the way."

Jane nodded to Rogers and the female that stood beside him, "anyone else want to go first?"

She didn't wait for a reaction before sauntering brazenly into the beam.

The Spectre had thought she was used to running into the unexpected. She had made a career of dealing with the strange, but awe of circumstance truly never went away. This time it was far more physical than expected. Pulling herself over the lip and onto the metal path, water violently expelling from her nose and mouth. If she were a little more with it, she would have pulled a gun on the Keeper scuttling by- but she was a little more focused on breathing. The next concern was the two in line behind her; one was lucky and ended up straddled over the railing the next erupted from the water much in the way she had.

Once it was clear all was fine, Jane rolled onto her back. Dark laughter barking from her diaphragm. It was a far cry from the body-lined hallways and corridors she had dreamed up, the relay monument looked down on her. God, she felt nauseous. Her sides didn't stop seizing until all breath left her body, eyes stinging with tears. Rolling to all fours, then finally upright the world swirled into sudden clarity.

This was the Presidium. Behind her, the partially broken statue that honored the krogan. A white spire jutting into the sky, a brave blue flower standing tall, heat speckled metal walkways, and the white-walled building. Her fingers raked through a tangle of wet hair, shook out her pistol, pulled Rogers from the railing, and tightly squeezed her fist until the twang of her muscles bid for release. The relay fired again, splashing followed, and the approach of footsteps came from her right side. The tepid water running down her face made pinpointing smells impossible, but she could sure taste the strange flavor of the unfiltered liquid.

"Holy shit."

"See, you should have never doubted me."

The Lieutenant did not find it quite so humourous.

"Lighten up, Kid," she remarked blithely, turning her attention to the squad that corralled them into the center of the walkway, "it's nice to see C-Sec arrive promptly."

The turian officer scoffed but lowered his weapon, "Bailey will want to see you."

"Good, we're looking for him."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"How is it always you?" Bailey hardly looked up at her, "but I've got to admit, nobody else is crazy enough to walk through a beam on foot."

The man was one of the few who could recognize her immediately, even with grown-out and natural hair. He had seen the scarring left behind after the Lazarus Project before they had faded for the first time. It took only a little imagination to see past the more extensive facial scars.

"The first or second time?"

Bailey's head craned up, concern crossing his face, "Com-"

Jane waved a hand, "please, Bailey, that person is gone. Let her die with her crew."

The concern grew behind the glow of his omnitool "if anyone ever asks, you waved your Spectre status in my face. But I don't think you are here to catch up."

"No, I am not."

The team back on Earth had tried to reconnect with the Citadel, but all attempts to reach them had failed. So a mission to the station became necessary. Bailey attempted to skirt the subject, but life on the Citadel was not easy. Slowly some peace was restored but at a snail's pace. Whatever jammed the comms slowed any hope of a unified force on the station. It also explained their failure to find a tech expert who might fix the issue and perhaps the lack of a Spectre or someone of a higher rank to authorize it—security measures as usual were great until they hindered progress.

"I'll need you before you try and disappear again," Bailey warned, swirling the scotch in his lowball glass. He figured this was special occasion enough, even if the hero returned as little more than a ghost.

"I'll consider it my retirement party," she mused, finishing off the bitter liquid, "seems easy compared to a Reaper invasion."

"Nothing with you is ever simple."

"Hell, this could all be a dream... for both of us." It felt a little cold for a dream, but it was all surreal. For now, she put it off as walking old hallways and the memories of the companions that haunted the place.

"The scotch must be hitting you hard."

"I haven't hit the hard stuff since-" the statement crossed into territory painful for both of them, "but I say there is no time like the present. Must be driving my squad nuts waiting."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Shepard before-"

Jane flinched, and Bailey retracted for a moment. Equal parts confusion and frustration with the jumpy woman. Perhaps it was time, untold horrors of war, or the alcohol that made her weird, if not mentioning the other multitude of reasons the Spectre seemed off her game. She went by a different name to the men she led, and it was becoming apparent the problem was far out of his wheelhouse.

"I have to give it to you plain, we found Anderson's body in here. It looked like he was shot."

"I know."

She had shot him after all. For a long time, she had tried reasoning that it was not her fault; after all, the Illusive Man had made her do it. Those strange cybernetic eyes had stared at her in her dreams, one of the thousands of voices taunting her. Those blue eyes had found her again as she walked the hallways to the Council Chambers.

"He must have activated the Crucible before he died, it's funny because we all assumed you had done it."

Jane hadn't activated the Crucible. That was true. Maybe Mary had; it was all a little foggy.

"We gave him the best funeral we could, I can take you there later if you like," Bailey offered, trying to rouse her with a touch.

Jane shook her head, "another time, this is enough."

Too much.

Bailey nodded, falling behind a few paces so she could absorb the room. Mentally, she remarked on little other than it had become a bit overgrown in disuse and that she liked it better without the constant trickle of running water.

"Nothing unusual up here, Ma'am," buzzed the comm.

"Roger, roger."

"It wasn't funny, even when the Major did it."

Fine, "hold position, I want eyes on anything that could go wrong. I'll place the shunt."

Jane moved slowly across the catwalk, the face staring at her accusingly grew clearer as she approached. The simple frame wreathed in upkept foilage, plants, and candles of all sorts making up an altar. She tried to move through littered petals and papers with reverence, but some wound up disturbed fluttering into the pit below. Jane crouched to cradle the picture gently, "Admiral."

Her blue eyes scanned upwards, resting on the bloody handprint covering the virtual interface sensor.

The total weight of another being crashed onto her, attempting to wrestle her from the catwalk. Even after weeks without combat, Jane dislodged the man with ease throwing him over the unprotected edge. The unnatural steel blue eyes, shocked with bright blue patterns, brimming with fury. Quickly as they had entered her vision, the figure went still and dark.

Coldly, empty, she returned the broken frame to its spot. Her complete attention turning to the console that lit up at her presence. The only break from her attention was the dramatic slam of her fists on the sides of the railing behind the console- it wasn't working.

Before she could release her temper upon the undeserving railing again, a keeper nudged her aside. Compiling the necessary commands with ease, the sudden noise of a system erupting in a blastwave. As quickly as the creature arrived, it scuttled back away. Leaving Jane to complete her task.

Bailey looked over the ledge, approaching the woman slowly once he was satisfied.

"Commander Bailey, you should have access to all Citadel systems," her bright blue eyes turned to him with a terrifying hollowness, "don't make me regret it."

"You- but, he," Bailey swallowed, running a hand over his cropped hair, "it's never simple with you."

He grabbed her arm before she slipped by him, "take this."

"I should go."

"Don't worry, you weren't here," he called after the stumbling figure.

Jane didn't recall stumbling back through the relay, or for that matter, picking her way back to the mall. Or the time she had left, or if she had bothered to warn anyone in the meantime. Reality was a persnickety thing at the moment, failing to anchor her securely to the present.

It was dark, the mechs hadn't stopped her, and not even her body was warning her of exhaustion. It was all instinct.

The room she stole into, that was not so much a call of instinct but of desperation. Her world grew colder, and it was beginning to tumble at a speed that she could barely withstand.

"Rahna."

Nothing.

"Rahna."

"Jane?"

#kaidan alenko #shenko #fshenko #mass effect fanfiction

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