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tommydarlings · 7 months

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Scream! | s.v

pairing: dark!dom!rbr!seb x sub!reader

warnings: smut, dark, blowjob, dacryphilia, mentions of spit, gagging, hair pulling

w/c: 2.4k

summary: Running into somebody dressed up as ghostface at this Halloween party you were at was already scary enough, what was even scarier though, was the fact that your crazy ex boyfriend was hiding underneath the infamous mask.

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walking through the noisy house with your little, white dress and halo on your head, clearly representing an innocent angel as you pushed yourself through the other people that were dressed up for Halloween, was hard.

“God, where the hell is the kitchen,” you mumbled to yourself as your eyes scanned every room, quickly releasing a tiny gasp as you found it.

Slowly, you pushed through new people again, quickly refilling your glas before you turned around and bumped right into a wide, broad chest.

“Oh, s-sorry!” You loudly apologised over the loud music, hoping that the person you just bumped into heard you. But as you looked up and noticed who you actually bumped into, you gulped with wide eyes.

You bumped into your dear, ex — Sebastian, who was now standing proudly in front of you with his infamous grin, wearing a black pants and no t-shirt…ghostface mask that he previously had on his face, now him his hand.

“Y/n!” He spoke loudly with an evil grin, “Didn’t expect to see you here! C‘mere-”

“N-No, go away,” you nervously shook your head as tears immediately entered your eyes, hands trembling next to your hips as you avoided eye contact with the man who hurt you so many times in the past.

Sebastian frowned, slowly pulling his arms away from you, harshly squeezing his ghostface mask as he noticed your weird discomfort, “but why?” He smiled down at you, biting his lip as his smile slowly fell, “You do know that I always just wanted to protect you, right?” The German whispered as he walked closer to you.

You briefly glanced up at him as you backed away but you didn’t came far, you immediately hit the hard counter as you raised your arms and tried to cover yourself as much as possible.

You felt so naked and uncomfortable as his dark eyes stared down at you with an emotion you couldn’t name.

Your ex boyfriend frowned again and shook his head, “Oh no, no, no, angel,” you hated when he called you that, forcing fresh tears down your face as the young redbull driver called you the nickname he always used to call you, “don’t hide from me, liebling… you never have to hide from me,” he mumbled as brushed some hair out of your face.

You usually you would think that those words are very sweet and reassuring, now they just scare you, making your body tremble as you gazed down at his mask.

Of course he would dress up as ghostface.

Sebastian noticed the curious gaze you had on his mask, “You like it?” He asked with a smile before he put the mask on his face, leaning forward and caging you in between his muscular arms, giving you no option to leave him now.

You were trapped by your crazy ex boyfriend who was dressed up as a famous serial killer, something you definitely didn’t expect to happen today.

You turned your head to the side, gulping and taking deep breaths as he let his nose run along your temple, taking a deep breath now as well.

“Are you scared, liebling?” Sebastian muttered in a deep and intimating tone while his hands were slowly creeping closer to your hips, “Oh you’re so scared, aren’t you little one?” He tilted his head to the side, mask still covering his face, “I can smell your fear through my mask,” your ex chuckled as if this is all just a silly game.

Probably that’s exactly what it is to him, but definitely not to you.

He raised his hand and gently placed it on your cheek, so gently that you though that he was almost worried of breaking you if he touched you with his rough hands, “You were always a scared little bunny, weren’t you? Or should I say… angel,” the German whispered, probably wearing a sick smile under his mask.

You gulped, desperately trying to blink your tears away as you still avoided eye contact with him, “I think y-you should l-leave-”

“I think that you’ve got no allowance to tell me what to do, hmm? Wasn’t it always like that, angel — can’t you remember anymore y/n baby?” He mumbled beneath his scary mask in a hush tone as he wiped some of your tears away, suddenly grabbing your wrist with his other hand, swiftly leading you out of the kitchen.

You stumbled over your own feet as he quickly dragged you through the busy and noisy house, more tears shooting into your eyes as he walked towards a big wooden door.

Quickly, you realised that you were standing in front of the cellar.

“S-Sebastian, what-” you gasped as he opened the door and led the two of you down the stairs, quickly entering the dark and scary looking cellar with you, only briefly turning around to lock the door behind him after he pushed you towards the hard and cold concrete wall, making your body shiver as he positioned himself in front of you.

Your hands were shaking, so were your legs as he looked down at your trembling body, mask back in his hand again.

“What d-do you want, s-sebastian? We can t-talk about a-anything, really!” You immediately spoke up, backing yourself up even more against the wall since you really didn’t wanted to be close to him at the moment.

He chuckled down at you, squeezing his mask again before he sighed and licked his lips, “Talk? I’ve told you so many times in the past that I love you — and every damn time you just started crying-”

“B-Because you were t-threatening-”

“You shut the fuck up when I’m talking, got it?” He harshly spat at you in a much louder and rougher tone, slamming you by your shoulders against the cold wall, making you hiss before you turned your face away from him and softly cried.

He furrowed his brows a bit, “Don’t cry right now, angel,” he mumbled deeply, thumbs caressing your naked shoulders as he stared at your fluffy halo, “You look so pretty when you cry but I don’t want to see you in pain, okay?” He nodded along his words as he let his hands glide down your upper arms.

You sniffled, wiping some of your tears away as you looked down at the floor, “Fucking hell,” he murmured under his breath to himself, “you really do look absolutely gorgeous when you cry, little angel,” he bit his lip, trying to hide a smile but failing miserably.

He removed his gaze from your face and looked up at your halo, softly touching it with the tip of his finger while his other hand played with the strap of your white dress,

“Has anyone already told you that this costume looks magnificent on you?” The German redbull driver asked you with a wide smile, fingers slowly pulling the thin straps off of your shoulder.

You only gulped, staring back up at him again as your shaking hands reached up to pull the straps back up but he shook his head with furrowed brows and dark eyes, “No, no, no — don’t do this… you look way better without it, I know you do,” he whispered in a hush tone, ghostface mask now laying on the cold floor next to the two of you.

This time, you shook your head, “I-I think that I d-don’t want this r-right now sebastian,” you cried in a pathetic tone, voice barely able to be heard since you were talking so quietly as you still tried to push his wrists away but Sebastian was faster and stronger.

In a fast motion, he removed his black belt and wrapped it tightly around your wrists, forcing a loud hiss out of you before he wrapped his hand around your throat while the other one was already pulling your angelic dress entirely off of your body.

You felt so cold and helpless, something you often felt back then when you were still with Sebastian.

Then he decided to play with the straps of your bra, palms now placed onto your shoulders before he quickly bend down and picked the ghostface mask back up, slowly placing it on his face again.

Sebastian tilted his head slightly to the side, hands on your shoulders again, thumbs running along the straps of the only thing that is luckily still covering your chest as you looked down at the floor in pure fear.

Suddenly, without a word… Sebastian forced you onto your knees, one hand leaving your body while the other one was now being placed onto your head, forcing you to stay down.

Swiftly, he unbuttoned his black pants, freeing his hard cock and stroking it as he stared down at you with his scary looking ghostface mask, making you shiver even more.

You sniffled again, “S-Sebastian… you don’t k-know what you’re d-doing, please!” You wiped some of your own tears away as you begged your ex to just let you go but definitely that wasn’t his plan as he pulled your by your hair even closer to his dick, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh I know exactly what I am doing, kleines,” little one, he mumbled in a deep tone under his mask as he bushed your plastic halo a bit further away to get a better grip on your hair, “Trust me,” he finished his intimidating statement before he spoke up again,

“Open up or I’ll drag you up those stairs and show everybody up there that you’re actually a little devil and not an innocent little angel,” he threatened you as he pulled on your hair again after, briefly fixing your halo.

You gulped and whined before you very carefully and slowly opened your mouth, immediately gagging and squeezing your eyes shut as he shoved his big dick down your throat, not giving you any kind of warning.

The German threw his head back and groaned through the mask, chuckling as he heard your gagging noises, “Just Like that, god,” he mumbled deeply under his breath,

“forgot how good that tiny throat of yours can suck cock,” he said as he continued forcing himself down your throat, chuckling or laughing each time you loudly gag.

You wanted to place your palms onto his thighs for leverage every time your nose hit his abdominal, but you realised that you couldn’t since he tied your hands together with his black leather belt, squeezing the tears out of your eyes before you gazed up at him as you realised that you could do absolutely nothing right now.

Sebastian loudly moaned as he looked down at you through his ghostface mask, putting both hands on your face now, thumb wiping some of your tears away as he guided your head by your wet, cold cheeks,

“You look so pretty, fucking hell, angel,” Sebastian chuckled before he groaned, “don’t try to hide those noises — wanna hear how badly you choke on my cock, you understand me?” he nodded along his words.

You only squeezed your eyes shut and loudly whined before another gag was forced out of your again as he shoved his cock down your already sore throat, “P-Please, sebastian, p-please,” you helplessly whined as he stuffed your mouth with his big dick.

“Awww, poor baby can’t even form a proper sentence, huh?” Sebastian chuckled through the mask, “Why not, hmm? Is she to busy gagging on my dick like a little slut, yeah?” He asked you in a teasing tone, one palm guiding your head again while the other one collected some of the spit that was dribbling down your chin.

“We don’t want that to go to waste, now do we?” Your ex boyfriend mumbled in a hush tone before he briefly removed himself from your mouth, only giving you a few seconds to breath before he quickly smeared the handful of spit all over your mouth, cheeks and nose, quickly stuffing your mouth with his cock again after he coated you in your spit and ruined your angelic makeup.

Sebastian threw his head back again, raising his hand to brush some of your tears and spit covered strands of hair out of your face, looking down at you again, “I don’t know about you but I actually don’t think that you look like an angel anymore — and you also for sure are not acting like one, liebling,” he chuckled as if all of this is just a joke to him as you focused yourself on breathing through the nose since he didn’t stop forcing his big cock down your throat for one second.

Sebastian noticed how you desperately tried to breath through your nose, tilting his head to the side before he slowly brought his hands down to your nose, shutting entirely your air supply off by squeezing your nostrils together, making you scream on his cock,

“Yeah, scream for me little angel, scream!” 'Ghostface' laughed as tears ran down your cheeks and landed on his wrist.

Sebastian slowly removed his hand from your nose and let you breath again before he forced your back against the wall, fingers playing with the halo that’s sitting on top of your head as he balanced himself onto the cold concrete wall by his other hand, loudly groaning and moaning as he let his head fall forward.

“My god, angel,” he groaned loudly in a deep and raspy tone, mask slightly sliding forward, “knew that sooner or later I’m gonna be able to get you on your fucking knees for me again,” he shook his head and chuckled wickedly.

You only continued gagging and crying as you stared up at his mask, bounded wrists laying helplessly in your lap as you squeezed your fingers together.

“Fucking shit, don’t stop — I‘m gonna cum in that pretty little mouth of yours,” he whispered in a hush tone as he roughly placed his big hand onto the back of your head, forcing himself down your throat even more as he came with a deep groan and moan, briefly slamming his other hand against the wall with a loud thud, making you jump a bit.

Suddenly, he quickly threw the mask off of his face and pulled you up by your upper arm, forcing you by your jaw to look up at him, blue eyes now darkly staring down at you as his hand squeezed your wet cheeks together.

“Tears, spit and cum… my favourite combination,” he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs while you gasped for air and whined as he cupped your messy cheeks, “I love you,” he suddenly told you with raised brows,

“I love you so much and I’ll make sure that you will feel the same,” he slowly nodded along his words as he adjusted the halo on top of your head with a smile on his face, “I mean… c'mon y/n baby, don’t you wanna be in the sequel with me?”

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fushitism · 1 month

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i feel like ur opinion on who chara dreemurr was as a person is entirely hinged on how you interpret these lines

my favorite thing about undertale is how interpretative everything is. it’s why i believe the fandom’s thrived so much

there aren’t any confirmation for a lot of things, only hints.

and chara is a character (heh) that defies easy categorization because of this

one minute they're getting halos drawn over their head, the next they're public enemy number one.

are they good? bad? gray?

we get so hung up on the morality aspect of chara that we forget the most important thing of all, they were a person.

a person— child.

a child that hasn’t had the years to work through it or even atone for the hurt they caused.

a child that did not know love before they fell to the underground.

a child, raised in darkness, suddenly thrust into sunshine. it's blinding, overwhelming.

foreign.

after poisoning asgore, their only reaction was to laugh. now, you can depict this in any way you like, but to me, it was an honest mistake. and chara's laughter was more of a nervous reaction. they probably couldn't fully grasp the gravity of their actions. this wasn’t an instance of them maliciously reveling in asgore’s suffering. i simply cannot see it that way no matter how hard i try

the dreemurrs were unlike any of the humans they knew. they genuinely loved and cared for chara who just… didn't know how to react or cope with it in a way most would consider "appropriate"

and actually! when you’re up against snowdrake’s mom:

chara expects frisk to laugh, just like they did when their dad got poisoned. it's horrible to look at. it's terrifying. but all they can do to cope is laugh

they FULLY expected frisk to do so too, but frisk just.. Doesn’t.

chara was a human that found a family where they least expected it. they weren’t devoid of any good. they weren't so despondent.

they had hope in their eyes.

they were determined to liberate monsters

and having alrdy been hailed as the "hope" of monsterkind by their family n being the completionist (love this trait abt them btw) that they were:

they were going to see this through. push all the limits. use all means. they will have power.

this is where things get muddy.

chara is a creature of reason. their decision to poison themselves and die, allowing asriel to absorb their soul, was, in their view, the most optimal and effective choice. there was no future left for chara on the surface anyways. there was also no straightforward method to obtain a human soul. each realization logically led to the next until everything seamlessly aligned.

their plan kicked off and started going their way. they intentionally carried their own lifeless body and headed to their village, fully anticipating the reactions they'd provoke. they had hoped to show asriel just how horrible humans are. they had hoped that by doing this, asriel would understand. the reason why humans must all be eradicated.

but to their utter shock, asriel resisted; he never fought back.

emotion foiled their plan, resulting in their own demise and that of their beloved brother. their sacrifice was for naught, the prospect of making peace between the two races has been tossed aside, irretrievably diminished.

asriel was right. chara wasn't exactly the greatest person. however, him acknowledging they weren't does not necessarily imply them to be a fervent force of evil (and i also think he meant it as in, he LITERALLY used to believe chara was the SINGLE greatest person, but eh, technicalities)

they were a flawed person, who died as such. they've made an abundance of bad choices in how they handled their trauma but that doesn't exempt them from redemption. especially not in a game that focuses on mercy and unconditional kindness and forgiveness and and and

and you know what? pacifist is their redemption. they don't rlly do anything that explicit in this route but. the silly narrations. the encouraging words frisk hears during asriel's boss fight. how frisk was able to save asriel and call out to him. i like to believe it was all chara. they've seen you prove that humans can be good too and with that..... they became a tool to free monsters, just as they had always intended :-]

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lxclerc · 2 years

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Arthur + Can i be him

pairing: arthur leclerc x reader prompt: can i be him by james arthur rated: angst

lex's 2k party

i swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me like it was a private show

the sound of your voice echoes around the room beautifully, having arthur completely mesmerized as he watches the way your nimble fingers strummed the guitar strings, your eyes close and your lips moving so softly.

at that moment, in your perfect moment of serenity, you’ve never looked more beautiful in his eyes. tt felt intimate somehow. the way you sat before him, your legs crossed and your guitar leaning on your thigh and him right in front of you. it makes his heart beat in a rhythm, matching that of your melody. it felt intimate knowing you’re here with him. it almost feels like his very own private show, one with the lovesick lyrics you’re singing dedicated to him.

he knows different though. he’d be a fool to let himself hope it is, make this something it isn’t. the song isn’t for him the same way the soft smile on your face as you sang isn’t. he’s played this game before – let himself hope for something that isn’t there, led himself on from signals you never gave out. arthur has one place in your life and it will never be the one he wants.

your song comes to a close and after the last strum of your guitar, your eyes slightly open, a shy smile on your face as you were greeted by the awestruck look in his eyes. for a moment, arthur did nothing but stare at you, in complete awe of your beauty and god given talent.

you’re an angel, he’s sure. and he should count himself lucky he’s even part of your life.

“well?” you press lightly, starting to feel anxious by his staring. “what do you think?”

finally, he’s brought out of his daze, a smile spreading across his face as he all but tackles you to the ground, making you release a yelp.

“arthur!” you screamed out, trying to push him off you as his much bigger frame seems to crush your ribs. “get off me, you idiot!”

“do you even have to ask?” arthur only laughs, placing his arms on either sides of your head to support his weight. “mon dieu, y/n, tu es la personne la plus talentueuse que je connaisse.” my god, y/n, you are the most talented person i know.

you can’t help but laugh as well, knowing you can always count on your best friend to always be your biggest supporter. “okay now get off me!”

little giggles still escape him as he finally moves off of you, flopping down to the space next to you as he smiled at the ceiling. at times like this, he can almost forget. when you’re next to him, laughing that beautiful laugh of yours that he adores, smiling at him like he’s the one who hung the moon, it’s so easy to forget that you aren’t his, that you’ll never feel the same way, that you will never be his.

you move to your side so you’re facing him, a gentle smile on your face. arthur’s heart seemingly wants to beat out of his chest as he meets your eyes – so gentle and so beautiful and so familiar that it almost feels like home.

“thank you, arthur,” you say softly. “for always being there.”

he forced a smile on his face, swallowing the urge to scream that he loves, that he’s so madly in love with you it physically hurts sometimes. but instead, all he says is “always.”

he will always be there, always be by your side cheering the loudest, always loving you without asking for anything back.

i heard there was someone but I know he don't deserve you

there’s a certain glow to you as you sit before him now, the usual monocan sun bouncing against your head, making it look as though you had a halo. or maybe it’s just arthur. you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

the usual monte carlo coffee shop that you used to spend your afternoons at as a teenager feels comforting as you smile at your best friend, a school bag over your shoulder and a smidge of pain on your hand. your hair is hastily braided and the freckles on your cheeks prominent under the sun.

arthur notices every little thing about you. he notices every little detail and every little change. he knows you as well as he knows the back of his hand.

“désolé, je suis en retard,” you say with a smile, placing your laptop down as you order your usual hot choco. sorry, i'm late.

arthur narrowed his eyes, placing his chin on his hands as he studied you for a little bit. “are you wearing make up?”

your eyebrows furrowed together as you look up at him. “maybe.”

“did you have a presentation for class?”

a light blush covers your cheeks. “maybe i just wanted to put in more effort this morning. ever thought of that?”

arthur playfully scoffed. “you wouldn’t get up early even if there was a house fire.”

“okay fine,” you roll your eyes before thanking the server as your cup of hot chocolate is placed before you. “maybe, possibly, i’m seeing someone.”

his heart dropped to his stomach then. he had been expecting something, anything but that. he thought perhaps it was a class presentation or maybe a meeting with your manager, but not that. “oh.”

of course, you’ve dated other men before. and of course he knew you’d eventually start dating again but the two of you have been single for so long, only having each other, that the news and the idea feels so foreign to him. what did it mean? does it mean less time together? what if the new guy you were seeing doesn’t like him or is not comfortable with the closeness of your friendship? it’s definitely happened before. hell, it’s been an issue with every girlfriend he’s ever had. only, those girls definitely had a reason to be jealous of you. it seems obvious to everyone but you that he’s madly in love with you.

but he saw the way you’re nervously chewing on your lower lip, hand beginning to fidget with the hem of your long sleeve shirt and his heart shattered. he knew then that this isn’t just ‘seeing someone’. you like this guy and arthur’s approval means something to you and god fucking damn it, arthur would have to act like he’s happy for you. he would have to play the role of the supportive best friend he’s always played.

so he plastered a smile on his face, hoping it hides the cracks in his heart. “now who did you scam into dating you? does the poor guy know you drool in your sleep?”

his teasing seems to immediately put you at ease and you let out a playful scoff. “i do not drool.”

“i have many pictures to prove otherwise”

and despite the smile on his face and the little giggles as the two of you continue joking around, all arthur wanted to do is crawl into a ball and cry his heart out, feeling the heaviness in his chess as his heart breaks into a hundred little pieces.

can i be him?

charles. it was charles. it was fucking charles. of course it had to be him. everything that arthur ever cared about, ever wanted to excel in, he had to stand in charles’ shadow. all his fucking life, he’d stood in charles’ shadow.

and arthur never minded it. he never minded that charles is the better racer or the better son or the better brother. none of it ever mattered because he had you. he always had you to turn to, always had you to comfort him.

and now charles had taken you too.

and the worse part is, you look so happy, so in peace and so beautiful as you sat next to his brother, the brightest of smiles on your face, one he’s never seen before, one you’ve never offered him. he’s never seen you like this – so content with life as you placed your chin on charles’ shoulder, laughing at something he said.

and arthur wanted to scream. he wanted to scream and cry and start a fight. he wanted to be mad and angry. he wanted to accuse his brother of stealing you. he wanted to shake your shoulder and ask why. if you wanted his brother then why couldn’t you want him too? why was he never deserving of your love? what did charles have that he didn’t?

but he remained quiet. he stayed seated and watched like the masochist that he is. because at the end of the day, he loved you too much. he loved you too much to take this away from you. he loved you too fucking much to destroy your happiness even if it comes with the expense of his own.

he’s loved you in silence and now his heart breaks in silence.

but pascale taps her youngest’s arm, pulling him along to the hallway and into arthur’s room where she cupped his cheeks, watching the way his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“oh mon coeur,” she muttered sadly as she pulled him into her arms. “it’s okay. it’s okay to hurt.”

arthur couldn’t help it then. his tears fell as his head fell on his mother’s shoulder, arms wrapping around her as though he’s a child again. his body shakes as broken sobs escape his lips. “c'est tellement injuste, maman. he already has everything” it's so unfair, mum.

and pascale only hugged him tighter. “je sais, mon coeur. c'est normal de pleurer.” i know, my heart. it's okay to cry.

“why couldn’t it be me?” he asked in between sobs. how can anyone ever live with heartbreak when heartbreak feels like this? he thought if he loved you enough maybe you’d learn to love him too. he always did pour too much love.

“why can’t i be him?”

#lex's 2k party #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc angst #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagines #formula 1 #formula 2 one shot #formula 3 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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ghoultrifle · 8 months

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I know it’s a bit early but I really hope we get some fan fiction of phantom celebrating Halloween for the first time

Thank you anon! I took this and kinda combined it with @p1nkcanoe's post here because i adore the idea of the abbey descending into chaos for two months a year. Also big credit to @marsohthree for her Phantom Halloween thoughts!

Here's 1.8k words of Phantom's first Halloween! This is somewhat based on unmasked Phantom but that's just because i never celebrated Halloween as a kid so he's all i have to go off asfhajghaldgh. Stick around to the end for a cute photo of Barbie and Ken! (also this is my first non-smut story and i'm a bit rusty, sorry!)

Phantom was practically vibrating with excitement, yes it was only September 1st but he’d heard today was the start of something called ‘Spooky Season’. Some people (Swiss) called it ‘Spoopy Season’ but that was silly because spoopy isn’t a proper word and it doesn’t even mean scary!

The clock struck midnight, signalling the end of Summer and the start of two months of ghoul-induced chaos, Phantom was loving it. By the time the sun rose on the first of September, the walls of the Abbey were already covered in spray-on cobwebs and the glass panes in the doors stained with a bone-chilling red. Phantom had been the one to source the blood, having recently learned how to hunt with Cumulus; he absolutely was not a natural and the blood covering the walls had sprayed from the new ghoul after he mistook his tail for a rabbit.

All the ghouls from different disciplines of the clergy, including the band ghouls, collaborated on turning the Abbey into a hellfest, literally. They tried to recreate the atmosphere of the pit, only in the ghoul’s quarters of course, they’re not monsters. The mixed quarters, common areas between humans and ghouls, were turned into more of a haunted house with your typical Halloween attractions and scares.

Phantom couldn’t contain his goofy smile as he helped set up the mixed quarters, placing plastic spiders that he animated using his quintessence to occasionally scurry across the fake webs. He was dressed in a slutty devil costume, Rain dressed in the accompanying angel costume. Phantom’s red skirt barely covered his ass and his black mesh top matched his patchy painted nails. Rain was sporting a white miniskirt with thigh highs to match and a halo headband. Of course none of the ghouls needed to dress up, they could simply unglamour themselves, but it was more fun to do it this way.

The first ritual of the day was to carve the ministry’s pumpkins. After the hunting mishap, the pack decided Phantom was not to be trusted with a knife and was instead relegated to design and project management. He chose a bat design, of course, and carefully stood on his tiptoes watching over Aether’s shoulder as he carved out the flying creatures. Once the new ghoul was satisfied with his elder’s work he picked it up like a baby and would not let go, showing it proudly to everyone he met.

It got so bad he almost took it into the shower before Dew whisked it away, “Nuh uh lil guy, I am not cleaning pumpkin seeds out the drain. You can have it back after.” Dew proceeded to accidentally drop the pumpkin as he was walking back to Phantom’s room, startled by the motion-activated skeleton in the hallway. So instead of a pumpkin, the quintessence ghoul was met with a ‘forgive me?’ pair of bat plushies, it was love at first sight. They’re named Barbie and Ken and, yes, they're dressed in pink cowboy costumes.

Time passed as Phantom eagerly awaited The Day. In the meantime he’d often be found wrapped up in toilet roll, launching himself out of the shadows at passers by, trying to scare human members of the clergy and failing miserably, “Why aren’t they scared by my costume, Mounty?” he’d pout. “Well, you do it every morning so I think they know to expect you by now.” Mountain replies. This only inspires the mischievous ghoul to up his scare game, his dream career being a scarer at a haunted house after the pack took him to Halloween Horror Nights.

The next day Aether and Omega had their work cut out at the infirmary as three clergymen were admitted for various fright-related conditions. Phantom bat-hung from the ceiling, the corpse of a freshly-hunted rabbit in his bloodied mouth, canines poking out as he smiled at the passing humans.

Phantom was forbidden from wearing anything other than normal clothes or slutty costumes from that point onwards.

In the days leading up to Halloween, the pack were sent on a trip to gather themed food for the ministry, Frankenstein crisps, ghost marshmallows, and of course sweets for trick-or-treaters. They thought it would be funny to let Phantom loose in the supermarket with just a list, the poor ghoul only just having learned how to read. “What’s this say?” Phantom asked excitedly, gasping for air as he ran back outside to where his pack was waiting, “Gummy worms, darling, you know the ones?” Cumulus replied the first time. Phantom nodded his head, skipping back into the store, only to jog back out minutes later.

“What ‘bout this one, Aeth?” He questioned, pointing hurriedly at the list. “Can’t see when you’re waving your hand around like that, Bug!” The older ghoul chuckled, moving Phantom’s hand away, “Ah, this is a tricky one. It says choco-late eye-balls.” Aether answers slowly as his hand traces the syllables on the paper. “If you can’t read anything else, just buy something spoopy!” Swiss shouts as Phantom shoots him a death stare from the store entrance.

It took five times as long as it would have taken if the pack joined Phantom, but the little guy enjoyed it too much for them to intervene. The ministry was now fully stocked, ready for the end of October.

Phantom awoke at 3am, the witching hour. His quintessence was tingling with the spirits of those below, rising for their day to shine. Today was the day. He restlessly walked to the kitchen, ready to eat despite the hour, to be met with a very tired Mountain. “Bug, what are you doing up? I thought we taught you how to read clocks?” he asked, still awake from the previous day. “Is Halloween Mounty! I couldn’t sleep any longer, too excited!”

Mountain sighed, clearly Swiss hasn’t been teaching Phantom how to tell the date as well as the time, “Tommy, it’s only the 29th of October, Halloween isn’t for another two days.” He frowned, upset for the eager ghoul. Phantom’s eyes began to water, tears instantly falling at the realisation, embarrassed and dismayed.

“Oh it’s alright, Bug, we can celebrate today if you’d like? Think of it as a practice!” Mountain replied frantically trying to abate the weeping ghoul. He pulled out his phone and texted the groupchat:

Mountain (3:06am): Ok ghouls change of plans… we’re celebrating Halloween today. Be ready :)

Dew (3:07am): huh? halpoween isnt todsy tho

Cumulus (3:07am): Yeah, what? What have you been meddling with Big Boy?

Mountain (3:10am): Phantom thought it was Halloween today and now he’s crying because it isn’t. I can’t bear to look at him like that so I told him we’re doing it today ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Mountain (3:10am): Not my fault btw! Someone (@Swisstopher) didn’t teach new bug how to read the date

Swiss (3:18am): …

Come sunrise, the pack was ready for the rootin-ist tootin-ist Halloween this side of October 31st. Mountain and Aether were dressed up as cowboys, basically an Arthur Morgan cosplay. Aurora wore Phantom’s devil costume with Rain still sporting the angel side. Dew and Cirrus were both zombies, full makeup (and a bit of unglamouring) making them look truly horrifying. Cumulus is wearing a sexy police outfit, because fuck the cops, right? And Swiss is shirtless, wearing a toilet seat cover with ‘Dracula’ written on it in sharpie, “I’m sexy dracula, OK?!”

Phantom was sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking his legs in excitement, ready to start the day. He was adorning a bat costume he made all by himself. It was a black cloth with eye holes cut out and some metal wire to make wings, Aether helped with that part.

They spent the day watching low-budget horror films and eating the Halloween goodies that they’d been saving for trick-or-treaters. Phantom was snuggled on the sofa right in the middle of the large ghoul cuddle pile, chirping happily as he realised how loved he was, his pack did this for him. They sat all day in their uncomfortable costumes just to give him the best not-Halloween ever, and it wasn’t even sundown yet.

Phantom sat by the front door, his tongue poked out as he tied his shoes, ready to go out. The whole pack was coming with him on his first candy hunt, except Dew, he’d gone on a smoke break and was taking so long they left without him.

Dew was, in fact, not on a smoke break. He was carefully knocking on the door of each house the pack was going to visit, “Hi! Yeah I know it’s not Halloween but my friend thinks it is, so could you just play along, please?” he asked, far too many times on behalf of what looked like a fully grown adult. Most of the houses complied, and the few that didn’t, well, Dew gave them a 20 and they quickly got on board. Nothing was going to ruin his Phantom’s night!

And so, one-by-one the occupants of the nearest village were met with a bedraggled Phantom in his homemade bat costume. “Trick or treat?” He’d shout, arms outstretched, holding a comically large bucket for the size of the ghoul offering it.

“Oh sweet thing, happy Halloween! I love your costume, did you make it yourself?” One old lady asked. Phantom nodded as he blushed and twirled to show off the wings. “Very impressive, young man. I think you deserve some chocolate for that, don’t you?” She smiled as she almost emptied a whole tub into Phantom’s bucket, his arms buckling at the weight.

The moon was illuminating the night sky, and the night was winding down. The young ghoul had long abandoned his candy bucket, simply too heavy for him to hold. They walked back to the abbey, Cumulus carrying the night’s haul while Swiss gave Phantom a piggyback, the quintessence ghoul’s legs sore from all the walking.

When they opened the front door, they were met with Copia in bat wings matching Phantom’s. He’d missed the day due to clergy commitments but wanted to show his support for his favourite ghoul. Copia guided them all to the common room where he’d decorated it as grotesquely as he could; bones everywhere, blood dripping from the ceiling, and various speakers playing spooky sounds.

Phantom plopped himself in the middle of the room, taking in the view and soundscape surrounding him as he ate the treats Cirrus left out for tonight, the rest stored safely away from the young ghoul. He couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be in such a supportive pack. Oh boy was he ready for actual Halloween.

and they were roommates

#spoopy is a word #trifle answers #trifle writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #ghoul hcs #cumulus ghoulette #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #aurora ghoulette #mountain ghoul #the band ghost fanfiction #halloween

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druidessgeek · 1 year

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Doric x female Druid reader

I know it sounds silly to have Druid with another Druid but hear me out. Doric played a more martial and offensive role in combat. The way I’m imagining a Druid reader is more in the support role that you have the option to be in game. Definitely Keyleth vibes but not outright. She hangs back, preferring to use her healing and buffing spells to help the party win the fight. Anyway, I originally wrote this really angsty but didn’t want my first fanfic posted for others to possibly read to be angst. No shade on angst writers I just didn’t want that to be my start

- [ ] Takes her a bit to warm up to you. She is worried she’ll say something stupid or sound like the inexperienced Druid she is.

- [ ] You catch her staring at you a lot though, and she tries to look away from you when you catch the tiefling’s gaze so after a long fight with a warlock trying to sacrifice innocents to his god, you finally sit next to her in front of the camp fire after catching her gaze on you.

- [ ] She is internally screaming when you start inspecting her injuries and casting a quick cure wounds on her scrapes.

- [ ] She confides in you after this. “I never learned much magic. You must think me a bad Druid.”

- [ ] You tell her that it doesn’t make her any less a Druid. That everyone has a role to play. Just because you chose the path of the healer, the nurturer, the caretaker, doesn’t make her path less valid

- [ ] “Any Druid who can take out a red mage while wild shaped is doing great at her vocation, love. Trust the process. Your time on this plane is far from over.”

- [ ] This makes the tiefling blush. You then make it a goal to see her blush at least once a day

- [ ] She asks you to teach her what the rangers couldn’t. Their knowledge of magic is respectable but no formal ritual, she knows even being good with wild shaping and a quick polymorph has left her behind in her Druidic knowledge.

- [ ] Her first lesson begins that night. She learns her first healing spell, which she then uses on a black eye you hadn’t noticed on yourself, touching it tenderly as tendrils of light soothe the inflamed bruise.

- [ ] You two are as thick as thieves after that. She comes with you when you go foraging on your travels. She can already identify most plants in the woods but some of them aren’t for food.

- [ ] You show her how to turn poisonous plants and fungus into potions to coat rocks for her sling. And you teach her how to make healing potions.

- [ ] You start noticing little flowers being left upon your things. Flowers she notices you cooing at gently under the canopy. Daffodils and bee balm in the spring. Goldenrod in the summer

- [ ] You weave them into little crowns and wreaths that you wear on your head and as bracelets, much to your fellow Druid’s poorly concealed excitement. She has to keep herself from picking every flower in the woods.

- [ ] The best part are the bees and butterflies that seem to surround you in almost a halo, sampling the nectars of the flowers, landing on your nose, and Doric, staring at you like you’re the goddess of nature herself.

- [ ] She has to keep herself from kissing you when you tell off an ignorant duke for assuming Doric evil. You even shield her from his judging gaze, returning it upon him and shaming him in front of the whole court for his willful ignorance.

- [ ] “If she’s evil for having horns and a tail, what’s that make you, my lord, for having none of this? Do they not have mirrors in your kingdom?”

- [ ] No one’s ever defended her like this. And it gives her hope. Maybe not all humans are awful. At least, not her human.

- [ ] She stays up with you on watches staring up at the stars while the others rest. She gives herself so little credit in her Druidic abilities but the way she looks up at the stars captivates you. Each constellation a unique personality, each star a close friend.

- [ ] You share your first kiss beneath those stars. She just can’t help it when she looks back down to earth and sees the most beautiful woman staring back at her like nothing else on the planet matters. She cradles your face in her hands and kisses you so gently, so tenderly that the sound of moth’s wings could have been louder.

- [ ] You’re both startled from your romance when you hear Edgin, wide awake and sarcastic as always. “It’s about time.”

#dnd doric #doric x reader #doric the druid #Doric headcannon #wlw fanfic #wlw love #dnd imagine #wlw yearning #x reader

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

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Ghost of you

Pairings: Natasha Trace x female reader. Synopsis: Natasha loved you, that’s why she let you go. Warnings: mentions of break ups, heart break, alcohol, depression Thank you @callsign-phoenix for proofreading Thank you @rv-ca for your lovely request ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Natasha watched you cross the bar with all the grace and elegance you had always had. The baby blue summer dress flowed effortlessly around your thighs as your hips swayed, your hair flicked carelessly over your shoulder as you laughed at another one of ‘his’ jokes. The setting sun cast an orange glow over your skin, creating a radiance around you like an invisible halo. Natasha knew she shouldn't have come, she’d told herself she’d wanted a drink, but her neat whiskey was long since forgotten in front of her, barely touched and she certainly wouldn’t finish it. She never knew why she had felt so drawn to you, even in the beginning it had never made sense, an invisible string seemed to pull her and despite her best efforts to fight it off her feelings only grew stronger, and the grip you had on her strengthened to the point of no return.

You looked happy, back arching and head thrown back as you laughed at another one of ‘his’ jokes, calling him ‘baby’ and wrapping your hand around his bicep. Natasha couldn’t help but grimace at the stunning engagement ring that adorned your long fingers. So that was it. It was finally over. Natasha knew she’d ruined any chance she’d ever had with you, but in the back of her mind there was always a small glimmer of hope that maybe, one day you’d come back to her.

The bar filled up quickly with the evening rush, crowds of aviators filling in to grab a quick drink or a game of pool to end their day. Natasha watched as her friends stumbled through the door, all joking and smiling jovially. Bradley was the last to come in but he noticed her first, waving casually in her direction. Natasha raised her hand in response before looking back down at their drink, the golden brown liquid swirled in small waves around the bottom of the glass, cascading up and down the sides but never reaching the rim. In that moment Natasha could understand how people drowned their sorrows. She’d never been someone who necessarily enjoyed getting drunk, but the thought of being so paralytic that she just couldn’t remember seemed pretty inviting.

It had been over a year since your break up and while you had moved on, even if it was a little too quickly for Natasha’s liking, she was glad things had worked out for you.

Natasha had never meant to break your heart, it was far from intentional when she’d walked away. She’d left to protect you because she loved you so she let you go. But how could you explain that to someone you love? ‘It’s not you it’s me’ never goes down well.

A hand being placed against her shoulder caused Natasha to shoot bolt upright, followed by a familiar chuckle.

“Easy there Phoenix, you’re a little jumpy, aren’t you?” Bradley took a seat on the bar beside you, a beer in one hand while his fingers danced across the top of the bar like he was playing the keys of a piano.

“What do you want, Bradshaw?” Natasha’s voice was laced with venom and a little harsher than she had meant to sound, but Braldey looked unfazed. His eyes narrowed, causing the crow feet to crease slightly, and his mouth opened as if he went to say something else before stopping himself half way and gulping for air like a fish.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha hurried, throning to face her friend properly and taking his hands into hers, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Braldey replied nonchalantly, turning his head away to access the rest of the bar.

“So what are you doing here, because I thought you’d planned a quiet night in?” Braldey knew of course he wasn’t an idiot, he was probably the reason why half the team turned up at the bar on a week night and Natasha made a mental note to thank the others later.

“I just wanted a drink,” Natasha placed the glass to her lips, flicking her neck backwards and downing the whiskey like a shot. If she’d have thrown her head back any faster she’d have had whiplash and combined with the burning sensation building in her throat, the tears began to build in the corner of her eyes.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? I know you better than that, Nat.” He did, of course he did, and despite Natasha’s best efforts she couldn’t stop the tears that brimmed in your eyes and slipped down her cheeks, leaving streaks over her soft flesh. She had known Bradley even longer than she had known you, and he probably knew her better than her own parents. The only problem was you knew Natasha well too, you knew her likes and dislikes, her unusual habits, the way she liked her eggs turned over and how she hated making the bed. Natasha had opened herself up to you more than she had ever realised and she couldn’t handle it. So she walked away. It had hurt like hell, but she’d walked and she’d regretted it every day since. She couldn’t even remember the amount of times she’d driven by your house on autopilot, always wanting to stop and knock on your door to bed for forgiveness. But she was stubborn, too stubborn for her own good some would say, so she never did stop. Instead she chose a life of solitude so there was no one to mourn her when she burnt in, no one to accept the flag at her funeral and cry over her coffin. She’d hated herself for hurting you, but she would have hated herself more if she’d hurt you in that way. Death was too final, at least this way she had said goodbye.

You were swaying beside the jukebox with your fiancé when you spotted Nat. Her eyes were sunken, hair greasy and she had a tight lipped smile as she spoke to Bradley. Your heart dropped. You hadn’t seen her since her outburst, since she’d broken your heart in the middle of the bar and told you she didn’t love you. It had hurt for a long time and even now the dull ache still remained in your chest as a constant reminder. You watched as she stood, walking towards the door with Bradley following close behind, his hand resting on her back to steady her. You wanted to follow them, to reach out to her but you didn’t, you just watched as the woman you loved vanished into thin air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @t-nd-rfoot @topguncultleader @flyboyjake @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @emorychase @jynxmirage

#natasha phoenix trace #natasha phoenix trace x you #natasha trace x reader #top gun phoenix #phoenix x reader #natasha phoenix trace imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun

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alister312 · 1 year

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Summary:

Damien is totally fine by himself, on his own, no friends or anyone required. He figures it'll be like that forever. Until Pip shows up, his halo broken and looking for help.

this is an attack for @knightinink for the @spinthetags south park olympics!! (3.3k words)

Read now on ao3 or below the cut!

Damien lived his life chaotically, or as chaotically as one could on Earth. The spontaneity reminded him of home, which he would be loath to admit he missed every so often. It didn’t matter to him that he never knew what the next day would bring, because he could take it. He was one of the most powerful demons out there, after all, flush with pride. He could handle anything.

With the exception of an angel suddenly on his doorstep.

It was less that he couldn’t handle it and more that he froze when it happened, too confused to know what to do next. The angel, frustratingly, was a bit more prepared.

“Hello Damien,” he smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Damien responded slowly. He tried to think back to the last time he’d seen the being in front of him. Teenagehood, he figured. His father used to bring him up to Heaven on business and Damien would thrill in tormenting the angels running around until he met Pip.

Pip didn’t run from his more painful or dark games, which intrigued Damien. He was tougher than he seemed, or maybe stupider. Pip was Damien’s sole focus from then on, until his father decided Damien was responsible enough to stay by himself in Hell. Not even Pip could convince Damien to go back up to that stupid blessed place.

It grew awkward the longer he stood in the doorway with Pip on the other side beaming at him, so Damien stepped aside and flicked his wrist, a half-hearted suggestion to come inside. Pip took it immediately, thanking Damien as he stepped through.

“No hesitation entering a demon’s lair,” Damien smirked. “Aren’t you worried?”

“I suppose I ought to be, but we had such jolly good fun together as kids. I know I’m safe here.” Pip looked back over his shoulder at Damien and he felt his stomach flip, most of him terrified to be known as a softie but some part he pushed down was thrilled.

“What are you even doing here?” Damien asked, hoping getting to the bottom of this visit would rid him of both of his emotions. “Shouldn’t you be in Heaven right now?”

“Right-o,” Pip nodded. “That is actually what I’m here about. On my way out and about today, I had a bit of a spill and well… I broke my halo.” He reached up and took the brown paperboy cap off his head and Damien watched as it morphed into a cracked ring of light. He grimaced and looked away, shielding his eyes.

“Fuck, that shit’s bright Pip.”

“Sorry.” Pip put the ring back on his head where it turned back into the cap. “But you saw how it’s broken?”

“Yeah. And? Why does that involve me?”

“Well, you obviously know a broken halo means I’m locked out of Heaven until it mends.” Damien did not know that, but now that he thought about it, he remembered his father mentioning it once.

“I remembered someone mentioning that you’d moved down– or, up here,” Pip continued, “and I hoped you might be able to help me fix it.” The hopeful pleading look on Pip’s face coupled with the ridiculousness of the statement made Damien burst out laughing. He doubled over and pounded his fist on the wall, leaving a dent that he probably wouldn’t fix later so he could remember this whenever he saw it.

After heaving a huge sigh, Damien realized Pip hadn’t cracked a smile the whole time. In fact, he seemed a bit annoyed.

“You’re fucking serious,” Damien said, snorting, still in disbelief. “Pip, how the fuck would I know how to fix an angel’s halo? Why would I fix an angel’s halo?”

“Well it doesn’t have to be about angelic things. How about as a favor for an old chum?” Pip said hopefully. Damien just barely held back another round of laughter and Pip whined a bit. “Oh please, Damien! It could be a whole year before it fixes itself and I’d hate to be stranded here for that long. If I had the proper materials I could cut it down to a few months!”

“Again, why in the Nine Circles would I ever have the ‘proper materials’?”

“Well, if you don’t have them, I was hoping you could ask your father.”

Ah, right. His father. Damien grimaced thinking about him. He hadn’t moved up to Earth just for fun (he really didn’t care much for the place), but instead to avoid his bitch of a dad. Every time his father got into a new relationship he would get weak and neglectful and Damien hated him for it. It was impossible to actually run away from Satan, but Damien hoped moving to another plane got the same sentiment across.

The last thing Damien wanted to do was talk to his father, but he knew Pip had a well of patience deeper than the ocean. No matter how Damien spat at him, Pip would wait. It would make his life much simpler to just do it so he could go back to how things were before.

***

Once Pip was situated, sitting on the couch in Damien’s living room, Damien went to his own room. He took a deep breath in and out, then called his father on the ornate mirror that hung on his wall. His father often struggled with human technology so this was the best way to contact him. It took a few tries but eventually his father answered.

“Hello Damien,” he said. He glanced over to the side right after he said this, clearly distracted.

“Father,” Damien grumbled.

“How’s your vacation on Earth? You coming home soon?”

“It’s not a vacation! I told you, I ran away and I’m never coming back!”

“Uh huh.” Satan was not convinced. “Well, did you need something?”

“No, I just called to say hi. Of course I fucking need something!”

“Language, Damien,” his father tutted. Damien screamed in frustration. Talking to his father was truly the worst. He needed this over with.

“Look,” Damien gritted his teeth, “some angel came to my door and is demanding I help fix his stupid broken halo before he’ll leave me the hell alone. He needs some material shit I don’t have but you probably do, so give it to me and you can get back to being fucked by whoever the asshole of the week is!”

“You want to fix an angel’s halo?” Satan frowned, confused.

“No,” Damien scowled. “But Pip won’t leave until I—”

“Oh, your little angel friend!” His father chuckled and shook his head. “Pip, of course. Good to know you two kept in contact! I always worry about you not having enough friends.”

“We’re not friends! I don’t need friends. I need the halo shit so I can get him out of my house.”

“Uh huh. Listen, I have some things I need to take care of but I’ll send you what he needs as soon as I can. In the meantime, how about you let him stay with you? It can be a fun vacation for the both of you!”

“I’m not on vacation!”

“Here’s some money,” Satan said, ignoring him. He snapped his fingers and a stack of loose bills appeared next to Damien. “You like movies, right? Go rent one from Blockbuster and have fun. Bye Damien!”

“Blockbuster doesn’t exist here anymore!” Damien growled, but his father had already ended his side of the mirror call. With a shriek, Damien set his bedroom curtains alight. Of course his father was eager to have Pip stick around. It would be easier for him to get away with ignoring Damien.

Grumbling, Damien walked into his living where Pip was still waiting. He sat up a little straighter when Damien entered, smiling excitedly.

“What did your father say?” he asked.

“Did you not fucking hear us through the walls?” Damien frowned. “Are you… you’re not deaf, are you?” One time he’d blown Pip up to see if that would be what finally pushed him away (it hadn’t) and Pip didn’t have scars so Damien assumed there weren’t any other physical consequences. Angels, despite their softness, were incredibly durable. Probably. He’d never really asked about it. He could be wrong.

“I can hear just fine!” Pip said. It seemed there were no consequences for Damien’s actions after all. “But I really only heard your side of the conversation. You did sound a little upset.”

“Damn right I’m upset!” Damien said. “My father is so out of touch and he doesn’t know me at all! He treats me like a child still and the whole time he obviously wanted to get back to his new boyfriend or something. He has the halo stuff you need but he won’t fucking send it yet even though I demanded it and instead told me to host you here and go to fucking Blockbuster! Can you fucking believe that, Pip?”

“He has the materials I need? Oh, jolly good!” Pip clapped his hands together once, delighted. “I’m sorry that he isn’t respecting you though, Damien. You deserve better than it. If he won’t listen to you, you don’t need to listen to him. I won’t stick around and impose on you if you’d prefer I go.”

“I don’t care,” Damien said, though he had to admit, he had instantly felt a bit better at hearing Pip’s support. He hated to come across as desperate though (really called into question the powerful demon act he projected) so instead tossed all the Blockbuster money at Pip and told him to “do whatever”, retreating into his room and curling up on his bed. Dealing with his father had exhausted him and he didn’t want to have to watch Pip leave.

***

Some time later, Damien awoke. It took him a moment to remember what had happened, but once he did, he rushed to his living room. Both Pip and the money were gone. The rest of the house was just as empty. Damien kicked a dent into the wall and swore. Of course Pip would take the money and go. He’d made it clear that he only came to Damien for access to his father, after all.

This was payback for years of being so shitty to him when they were younger. Not even— this was just common sense. It was how it was meant to be: him, a demon, alone, and Pip, an angel, as far from him as he could get. Not even a note telling Damien where to drop off the stupid halo repair materials whenever Satan eventually sent them up.

As Damien contemplated whether he should destroy the materials once he got them or hunt down Pip to give them to him, his front door opened. There, with a few bags in his hands and at his feet, was Pip. A sense of relief washed over Damien. He tried not to seem so excited as he quickly walked over to close the door behind him.

“Oh dear, you’re awake already,” Pip said. “I was hoping to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Damien said.

“Yes! Since you’re being so kind in helping me with my halo, I wanted to make you dinner.” Pip lifted one of the bags in his hands and Damien could see that inside were groceries. That’s where the money must’ve gone.

“I hope you don’t mind if I use your kitchen,” Pip said.

“Oh, sure,” Damien shrugged. Pip beamed at him and headed off to start cooking. Damien wasn’t quite sure what dish he was planning to cook, but given the fact that the sun was starting to set, he assumed it would be done soon. In the meantime, he sat on his couch to wait.

After about twenty minutes, dinner didn’t seem any closer to being done. There’d been the rustling of the grocery bags and Pip humming, but no click of the stove gas igniting or any smell of anything cooking. Damien was feeling hungry, so especially impatient.

“Fuck, how much prep work is there for this?” Damien grumbled, getting off the couch and walking into his kitchen.

“It’ll be just another moment!” Pip said, turning to smile at him apologetically. Every ingredient was laid out, spread across the counter and table, but nothing had actually been prepped. Funny, Damien had never thought that angels were capable of lying.

Pip stood over the cutting board, a knife in his hand. Damien watched as he cut the onion in front of him so slowly and carefully, as if he were performing surgery. If this was how everything was going to go, then no wonder it was taking ages.

“Give me that.” Damien pushed Pip aside and took the knife from him, dicing the onion in just a few seconds.

“Oh wow!” Pip’s eyes were wide and shining. “I didn’t know you were so handy in the kitchen Damien.”

“I like knives,” Damien grinned. “In whatever way I get to use them.”

“I’ve not really used them much,” Pip admitted sheepishly. “I know this is supposed to be a thank you dinner for you, but would you mind doing more of the cutting? I know it would go much faster and I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

Cutting the wait time down while cutting things sounded like a perfect idea to Damien, so he got to work while Pip busied himself with the seasoning and other prep work. It’d been a long time since Damien had done any home cooking; he was used to ordering around other demons to bring him food and up on Earth, he’d gotten used to ordering out. The kitchen sat unused, just a big empty space, like most of the house.

Now, though, it was warm; not just because Damien liked to keep it that way to remind him of home or because the sizzling and baking made it so, but because Pip made it so. Heaven was “nice” in the way hospitals and hotels were, sterile and fake, but Pip was anything but that. Conversation through dinner flowed naturally and easily, and despite the fact that Pip had the tendency to apply such a happy sunshine filter on every single one of his observations, Damien enjoyed it. Pip had good advice for most any problem Damien brought up and looked genuinely surprised but pleased whenever Damien told him so.

It was probably vanity that made Damien crave attention as much as he did, but sometimes he wondered if it was something else too. Other demons only ever interacted with him to serve or fight him, his father was flighty with his affection, and, by his nature, Damien never endeared himself to mortals. In the end, he was alone. He was good at forgetting it (or telling himself he was forgetting it), but as he and Pip stood at the sink washing dishes, so close, how much he wanted to touch Pip wouldn’t leave his mind.

There was ample opportunity; there’d be plenty of “Oh, pardon me” and “Behind you” while they were cooking. At the sink, Damien splashed water on Pip and could’ve pat him dry but could only bring himself to toss him a towel. They watched a movie (not from Blockbuster) and slowly shifted from either end of the couch towards the middle throughout the run time. Then the movie was over before Damien could bring himself to lean over and at least bump their shoulders together.

Pip yawned after the movie ended and stood up from the couch, heading for the door. Damien followed him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Well it’s quite late, isn’t it?” Pip said. “The dinner and movie were lovely but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You can overstay,” Damien said, a bit too quickly, inwardly cursing before correcting himself. “I mean, you can stay over.”

“But you said you didn’t want to have to listen to your father,” Pip frowned.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Damien crossed his arms defensively. “Fuck him.”

“Right-o, then I should be heading out.”

“No! Well, yes, he said that, but now I’m saying you should stay. Separate from his suggestion.” There again was that look again from Pip, piercing right through Damien, the one that said “I know you”. It made his stomach flip again, but he wasn’t so scared that Pip could do that. He wanted to be known. He wanted this, the home cooking and the movie nights. Now seemed like the perfect time to admit it.

“Shall I take the couch then?” Pip asked.

Later might be a fine time too.

***

Damien tossed and turned in his bed, trying to sleep, but he couldn’t. Not when he knew that Pip was just a wall away, curled up on the couch. He’d insisted over and over again that he was more than happy with the arrangement, though admittedly Damien had only pushed the issue once. On a logical level, he knew that Pip waking up with a crick in his neck would not drive him away forever. A small part of him remained scared though, the same small part that longed to reach out.

“Argh, fuck it,” Damien muttered eventually. It would take a while to give in to this longing part of him, but he was good at anger. Even if the spite was a disguise, it was what actually brought him out of bed and into the other room.

“Pip, wake up,” he demanded. Pip’s eyes shot open. He seemed confused, then a bit saddened.

“You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you? I worried this might happen. Don’t fret, I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“No,” Damien said, stopping Pip in the middle of folding the blanket he’d been using. “You’re staying here. And you’re staying in my bed.”

“What? Damien, I could never!” Pip frowned. “It wouldn’t be right to kick my host out of his own bedroom.”

“You won’t be kicking me out,” Damien rolled his eyes. “We’re sharing my bed.” Despite the lack of light, Damien could see a bit of pink tint Pip’s cheeks. He hoped angels didn’t have the same sort of darkvision as demons. His face was undoubtedly as red as Satan’s right now.

“Are you… are you sure you’re alright with that?” Pip murmured. “I… I move around a lot in my sleep and I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Damnit, Pip, I’m offering this to you! If I thought you being here was fucking imposing, I never would’ve let you inside in the first place! You’re the one with control here, you can say no and you can leave me if something better comes along—”

“I wouldn’t!” Pip interrupted. He seemed a little startled at his own outburst, but relaxed, smiling softly. “That is, it’d be silly of me to come to you and then leave. I wouldn’t do that. I will take your offer though.” He took Damien’s hands in his and squeezed them lightly. Damien barely processed much after that. Pip thanked him, he could tell that, and the two of them crawled under the covers of his bed. All he could focus on was the touch and how it… hadn’t shattered anything. Not Pip, not Damien, and not the situation he’d managed to find himself in. It could all be real: someone caring for him.

Secretly, Damien made a wish that his father would forget his request. That he would take a millennium before he remembered that Damien was up here, waiting for the materials to fix Pip’s halo. Maybe he’d even be lucky enough that the halo would stay broken and he and Pip could live like this into eternity. There was some cruelty to the wish (he was a demon, after all), but the way Pip softly wished him a good night made Damien see through him and suspect he wouldn’t mind being stuck if it were like this.

#south park #sp olympics #sp dip #sp fanfiction #damien thorn #pip pirrip

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raayllum · 1 year

Text

“So they might kill you or they might save you,” Callum said. “Exactly.” Rayla smiled. “Just like me.” (—Book One: Novelization)

If Aaravos takes control of me again, you have to kill me. I need you to promise. / We can’t save everyone, Soren. There’s too much at stake. / A Moonshadow assassin who, can this be right, isn’t capable of killing? / I’m not going to kill you! (4x07, 4x05, 4x04, 4x07)

“You killed him!” “He was my friend.” (—After Darkness)

Rayla’s brave. She saves people, even when it puts her life in danger, and even when the odds seem impossible. [...] That’s what makes her a hero. That’s what makes her Rayla. (3x05)

You let him live, but you killed us all. / You have two choices: you all die, or just the evil wretched human dies. (1x01, 3x01)

Humans call it the south star, y’know, to find their way in the endless darkness of the night. / No one can control your or make your choices for you. What if I’m on a path of darkness? Then take another path, dummy. / In darkness, gaze upon a fallen star. [Rayla shows up, haloed in light] (S5, 4x07, 4x02)

The river may be fast, but you’re basically my best friend. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, no matter what it took. / Life is like a river. / It’s part of protecting them. Part of protecting you. Going to dark places and making hard choices is an act of love. It’s a gift. [...] Stay safe, and stay in the light. / Soren gasped the darkness like water into his lungs. He could not breathe. He was drowning. (Bloodmoon Huntress, 2x06, Dear Callum, Strangers)

Alright, enough almost killing me. / But then you spread your wings, and you saved me. (1x05, 4x05)

I’m glad we’re together, and looking at the stars (S5)

It’s a toy, a piece from a children’s game. I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone’s lives in danger. / It’s a glow toy! / Are you practicing magic or are you losing to Bait at a game of rolly-cubes? / Already tainted by darkness, and destined to play right into my hands. / They aren’t games. They’re tests. / Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear. (1x04, 1x05, 2x07, 4x04, Changing of the Guard, 2x09)

#like they're sick for this truly #rayllum #arc 1 #arc 2 #multi #tdp shorts #s5 spoilers #i need you to kill me #water motif #light and darkness motif #devil and the lovers #bonus game motif for the end #theme: duality #predictions #bold is 'bad' italics is 'good' and none of it matters anyway bc he'll just play into aaravos' hands regardless #mine

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nightraiderwrites · 6 months

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Introspection

I break the fourth wall.

Tws: unreality, graphic descriptions of dead bodies

We set the scene. FALSE SYMMETRY, a woman dressed in golden armor and blonde hair sits in the snow amidst freezing bodies. Her sword sits at her side. [???] Hello. [False Symmetry] [Glumly] Hello.

[???] Not surprised to see me? [False Symmetry] I expected it. You seem to like doing this. [???] Well- I- hmm. I’ve only done it once, though. [False Symmetry] That’s true. FALSE SYMMETRY looks over the dead bodies. There aren’t very many, not compared to the ones buried beneath the earth. [False Symmetry] Did you like how it ended? [???] Which me are you asking? The me that is you or the me that is not? [False Symmetry] Both, I suppose. [???] To answer your second, yes. I am happy with this ending. I knew we weren’t going to survive to the end anyway. The information we had… It wasn’t enough. For your first… Well. Did you like how it ended? [False Symmetry] No. Not at all. Wind picks up, sweeping snow over the already cold bodies and filling in footprints that lead far into the distance. It howls, whipping through FALSE SYMMETRY. She is a ghost. It does not affect her. [???] Hey, can I ask you a question? [False Symmetry] Don’t you already know the answer? [???] Humor me. [Pause] Did you love him? [False Symmetry] Of course I did. Of course we did. [???] And we paid the price. [False Symmetry] We did. I heard you cried. [???] Very rude. I could leave right now. [False Symmetry] But you won’t. [???] No. I won’t. The sun peeks through the clouds. Its red glow illuminates the frozen expression of the bodies in the snow. Light glints off a pair of glasses, shining down on blank eyes. [False Symmetry] What now? [???] Hmm? [False Symmetry] What are you going to do now? [???] Keep going. I’ll sing this tale until there is no one left to listen, and then a little more. [False Symmetry] And me? [???] It’s over. [False Symmetry] It is. [???] Doesn’t that mean you should go home? [False Symmetry] You know the answer to that question. Where is home anyway? [???] I… Don’t know. I could send you back. Just not this you. [False Symmetry] I am you and you are me. If you go home then I am too. [???] That’s not how it works and you know it. [False Symmetry] I know. I was hoping. [???] [Laughs] Hope. We know how it goes. [False Symmetry] Yes. We do. Around her, the snow glows red. Solid blood form wings behind her dead body. It halos around her companions' heads. [False Symmetry] This is it, then? [???] Yeah. I’ll come back, though. I like this story too much. [False Symmetry] Hmm… I’ll see you around, then. [???] You certainly will. FALSE SYMMETRY disappears. The bodies in the snow stare lifelessly into the sky. [???] You. Reader. The one who reads this. Are you just going to sit there? Are you just going to Watch? You. Reader. The one who sits behind the screen. Understand this. The story is not over. There is so much more delicious sadness to consume from it. You. Reader. The one who loved the story. What comes next?

Tee hee. Once again based on a game of mafia with my friends.

#nightraider writes #falsesymmetry #lifesmpmafia #tw unreality #HEHEHEHE #oh god im not sorry

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shoppncarticles · 1 year

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Viva Piñata

After the monumental success of Pokemon in 1996, several other companies tried giving the monster-catching craze a shot in attempts to reach the same level of commercial bounty that Game Freak and Nintendo had, though it rarely led to any long-term success. This wasn’t exclusive to just the later 90s though, since Pokemon’s continuing status as a media empire meant that there must still be a market for quirky critter-catching simulators. Enter Microsoft, who joined the gaming industry in 2001, and had a stroke of good fortune with their second console, the Xbox 360. Competing with the Nintendo Wii and PlayStation 3, the Xbox 360 was pretty popular and widespread for the time, encouraging Microsoft to find more ways to branch out and expand their console’s appeal.

Microsoft was also in control of Rare Ltd. at the time, the creators of games like Donkey Kong Country and Banjo-Kazooie. Figuring they could make something with broad, marketable appeal similar to Pokemon, Microsoft gave them the task of creating a new monster-collecting IP. Luckily, Rare already had a concept lying around that could fit the bill, so they set out to work developing what was supposed to be a new juggernaut. They even paired with 4Kids to get a cartoon made and ready during the game’s development.

The end result was Viva Piñata, a cross between a gardening and a pet raising simulator that gives players a garden to call their own and decorate in attempts to attract wild living piñatas to hopefully tame and live there. True to Rare’s standard affair, the game is very colorful and nicely stylized, featuring several different piñatas who each (usually) have names that combine what type of animal they are with a sugary food. You can even get the piñatas to breed if you so choose, encouraged since only 2 of one piñata type will show up in the wild at a time.

The piñatas aren’t the only thing players have to care for, though, since gardening does matter quite a bit, and plants can be farmed and bred in order to create flora which better attracts the wild paper-mâché fauna. Things aren’t all bright and cheery though, since not only will players be tormented by villainous Ruffians who seek to ruin the garden and even smash piñatas, but players are also encouraged to do some pretty twisted things to their piñatas in order to make extra cash. I mean, these are living creatures you’re sending out to get smashed at parties, after all.

Unfortunately, though, Viva Piñata didn’t see anywhere near the amount of success Microsoft was really hoping for. Despite getting that cartoon made, and spending quite a bit on marketing (I remember there being a line of Kid’s Meal toys at one fast food chain), the game struggled to find a solid foothold in the market. It sold well enough, around 500,000 copies a year after its launch, but nowhere near Pokemon’s multimillion figures.

Truthfully, it didn’t mesh well with the Xbox’s primary demographic, which were teenagers and adults who bought the console for online shooters like Halo. The children who did buy it weren’t much better off, since, while bright and welcoming on the outside, Viva Piñata has some unnecessarily strict and complex mechanics and requirements for progression that children would likely be unable to micromanage and organize. Game progression can be pretty simple, but if you’re looking to tame all the piñatas or generate a steady stream of revenue, be ready to open the in-game encyclopedia multiple times. Several piñatas have wickedly complex requirements in order to be tamed or breed.

Viva Piñata would get a sequel two years later, a truncated DS ‘port,’ and a party game spinoff, but would seem to fade away from the public’s – and Microsoft’s – consciousness soon after. It’s a real shame, if you ask me, since it’s clear that like so many of Rare’s other games a real level of care and attention to detail has been put into these games that elevates them a bit higher than other ‘Pokemon Clones.’ Hell, with how different Viva Piñata’s gameplay is, I don’t think it may even be fair to call it a Pokemon Clone, it stands well enough on its own as a unique experience.

To give this forgotten game some fresh attention, I wanted to go ahead and share some of the piñatas which I enjoy the most or find to be quite noteworthy. There are about 60 different species in total, so I can’t cover every single one of them, but hopefully this selection should still do them some justice.

Mousemallow

“My crazy grandmother always said: 1. Mousemallows are never bigger than the gap under the pantry door, 2. never fall for the "blind" routine, and 3. never trust a Mousemallow wearing pants!”

Starting with a simple one, Mousemallow is Viva Piñata’s resident cute tiny rodent. The huge paper or cardboard discs are a clever way to give it big, comical ears, and the darker coloring around its eyes gives it a cute bandit mask look. Purple is a nice palette for it, but each piñata comes with 3 alternate palettes for you to customize them with as well, Mousemallow has one that’s solid yellow that occurs whenever it eats cheese.

Each piñata species also comes with a unique home building you can place in your garden (which isn’t necessary to keep them around, but is if you want them to breed). Mousemallow’s is a large grandfather clock, which is quite clever given the Hickory Dickory Dock nursery rhyme. The additional mouse-shaped wood carvings are a nice touch too.

Buzzlegum

“Why do Buzzlegums make honey? I think it's a bribe so we'll be their friends. I mean, without the delicious, sweet honey, you're left with nothing more than a fat wasp.”

I don’t think you can get much dopier than this bee. This thing looks like it’s barely had a coherent thought in its life. Buzzlegums don’t have to just sit around and look stupid all day, though, you can build a bee box in your garden to make the Buzzlegum produce honey for some extra profit. If you make it wear its own beekeeper’s hat, it can even do the whole process automatically.

Candary

“Not only is the Candary small and yellow, but it can "detect" poison gas in mines. Not only pretty but practical too.”

The Candary’s description makes note of the poor bird’s tendency to be used to check for toxic fumes in mineshafts, something Rare already poked fun at in Banjo-Tooie with the character Canary Mary. Candaries don’t have it any easier, since you can build your own mineshaft in your garden for extra cash generation too. While you could hire some miners to dig out rocks for you, you could also buy a gas mask for your Candary and send it into the mines by itself instead. Remember when people half-jokingly (or even seriously) would question the ethics of Pokemon catching and battling? Well, the world of Viva Piñata has no qualms using these colorful candy-filled animals for hard manual labor. In fact, it’s even more efficient to have a Candary work in the mines since you don’t have to pay it salary. Now that’s economic!

Sherbat

“When Piñatas were just evolving, what would become the Sherbat was developing a taste for extreme sports. For a time, it looked like street-pizza extinction. Then one morning, that strange creature with the sagging armpits became a Sherbat legend!”

...what?

The Sherbat is kind of disappointing, since it looks more like a cartoon exaggeration of a rabbit more than it does a bat. It is pretty amusing, though, seeing it flap those tiny wings as it flutters around your garden.

Actually, the Sherbat first comes in a Sour variant when spotted in the wild. Sour Piñatas are usually nuisances to your garden, causing a variety of problems either for your plants or current residents. The Sour Sherbat specifically will ‘drain’ your piñatas as if it were a vampire, causing them to fall ill. Once one Sour Piñata of a given species has been tamed though, all future wild piñatas of that species will be normal and harmless. It’s a shame though, in the case of the Sherbat, since the Sour variant is so much better looking than its normal design. I love the oversized wings and tiny body, and the sinister little eyes and fangs are a great touch too. You could theoretically keep a Sour Piñata in your garden if you wanted, but it would just cause annoyances until you either tame it or smash it into candy.

Sherbat homes are at least excellently designed. I really enjoy the exaggerated and uneven shapes of the gothic fence and tower, and the glowing green lantern is a great cherry on top.

Arocknid

“This eight-legged Piñata is perfect for any birthday party that takes place on October 31st, but it's not always the most popular Piñata on the block. There's a reason some folks can't wait to whack it with a stick, and it's not just the candy inside!”

I’m happy to see a spider piñata is a part of this catalog, and even happier to see it has a full eight legs and multiple pairs of eyes. The description also shines some light on the fact that, despite being alive, these piñatas are still filled with candy and smashed at parties without remorse, which you can even send your own piñatas to for some cash. They always return unharmed, though, so you needn’t worry about their well-being. Physically, at least.

Arocknids are also predatory, they are based on spiders after all. Taming one means that you have to let it eat two of your Taffly or Raisant piñatas. It’s not hard to do that, since you can attract two piñatas of one type from the wild, but what the game doesn’t tell you is that you actually need 4 of either piñata in your garden to get the Arocknid to actually visit. As I said previously, you can’t attract that many of one species from the wild, so you’ve either got to buy more from a piñata hunter or start breeding them.

Also, one of Arocknid’s alternate palettes give it an orange body and purple legs, gained by eating – what else – a Jack-o-Lantern. Succeeding where Pokemon failed, I see.

Reddhott

“Imagine scorching the furniture when you sit on it. Imagine having to move every few seconds because if you don't, the ground underneath you sets alight. What kind of life is that? Who is responsible for this?”

The Reddhott’s description shows how this game is still chock full of Rare’s signature sarcastic writing style, and acknowledges how twisted it is for you to go and make one these things. Unlike another piñatas, Reddhotts can’t be found in the wild, and instead must be evolved from pre-existing ones. By setting a normal Taffly piñata on fire, then quickly dousing it, you can get a Reddhott, the piñata version of a firefly. Kind of. It sells for quite a bit of money, and Tafflies are easy to come by, so you could get a bunch of them and turn them into Reddhotts for a quick profit. Y’know, if you were a demented pyromaniac or something.

Pudgeon

“All Pudgeons are filled with state-of-the-art GPS tracking systems. So, like a feathery boomerang, they always come back. Take them on holiday, load them up with duty-free and avoid hassle with the customs.”

This thing perfectly captures just about everything about Pigeons. The incredibly tiny eye is what seals the deal, though, I think. Just like the Buzzlegum, it looks appropriately dopey and thoughtless like the real thing.

Bizarrely, one of the requirements a Pudgeon needs to meet before it can breed is that it need’s to be wearing a Reporter’s Camera accessory. That’s a feature too, that you can dress up your piñatas in little knick-knacks and clothing accessories. Why a pigeon needs to wear a camera in order to procreate is beyond me, though.

The Pudgeon’s home is a statue of the game’s main antagonist, Professor Pester, only splattered with… some kind of white substance. You never see piñatas defecate during gameplay, so it’s a mystery where those droppings come from. Especially since you buy the statue already in that state.

Cluckles

“Right from the beginning, scrambled, boiled, or fried; then there's the cute fluffy bit (ahhh); then we dive right back into roast, boiled or fried. How can there be any left?”

Cluckles is quite the cute chicken piñata, I really enjoy how round and simplified its body is, and the nice palette of red, orange, and green it’s got make a good mesh of colors. It looks like one of the most believable piñatas of the bunch, for what that’s worth. Cluckles is also quite a useful utility piñata too, since it’ll help speed up the hatching any eggs in your garden, helpful if you’re trying to get awards for breeding a piñata type multiple times.

Profitamole

“All that time spent underground has deteriorated the Profitamole's eyes so they can barely see. This has probably saved the species because, let's face it, Profitamoles don't look too hot.”

I don’t know what that description is talking about, Profitamoles are positively ADORABLE. Look at how small and fluffy this thing is. It’s just a nugget of fuzzy piñata paper. I guess the problem might be the fact that it looks like it’s got red eyes? But that’s just rings around the outside of the eyes, otherwise it’s got a normal set of peepers. Profitamoles are helpful too, they’ll eat up and big clumps of dirt that happen to appear in your garden, either from improper mine usage or enemy Ruffians invading your turf.

Profitamoles come in Sour variants too, and while they certainly aren’t cute anymore, they are quite cool with their huge mouths and gnarly, jagged teeth.

Newtgat

“Ever wanted a Jameleon but found out they were too expensive? Your old Lickatoad is looking tired and out-of-date? Get a Newtgat-functions like a Lickatoad but with all that expensive Jameleon styling that you love.”

Called a newt, but more clearly resembling an axolotl, Newtgats are incredibly cute amphibious piñatas. Yeah, amphibious, because despite being made of paper-mâché these things can swim around in water with no consequence whatsoever. Maybe due to the axolotl’s predatory nature, but if you have both a Newtgat and a frog-like Lickatoad in your garden, the two will constantly quarrel and start fights with the other. These ammphibians don’t get along, it seems.

The Newtgat is pretty simple in gameplay, but can be fed a chili pepper to evolve into a Salamango, quite clever since axolotls themselves are just larval salamanders which never fully mature.

The Salamango’s cool and all, and has a neat fire theme going on, but I’d keep a Newtgat just the way it was, though. Is this how people feel about Wooper in opposition to Quagsire? I guess it makes more sense now.

Twingersnap

“When it comes to improving something, it's obvious that two is twice as good as one. This is the next step in Syrupent evolution. But they aren't just two heads - the left head is touch sensitive too!”

An evolution of sorts from the basic snake piñatas, Twingersnaps are based on real world mutations found in snakes that create two heads between them, only Twingersnap is a snake with two heads at each end rather than a fork. The method of getting a Twingersnap is a bit morbid, since instead of evolving a current Syrupent into becoming one, you have to deliberately smash a Syrupent egg right before it would’ve hatched in order to get one. You’ve ruined his thing’s birth and given it an unnatural mutation. Things don’t just stop there, though, because there’s also…

Fourheads

“Imagine the intellectual power! Four brains working in unison! A pity that someone skimped on the limbs, or this creature could have been revolutionary.”

Doing the same thing and smashing a Twingersnap egg will get you a Fourheads piñata, now resembling a hydra more than the average mutated snake. It even spits up argonaut helmets when attacking. Every piñata has a different object it uses when attacking, but none felt especially noteworthy until now. It’s a wonder that Fourheads is still able to breed and make eggs of its new species, considering it’s a mutation of a mutation. The wonders of piñata biology!

Doenut

“This animal is fast and flighty, not the sort of animal that you'd expect to get caught and eaten. Unfortunately, the horns on its head pick up T.V. signals and transmit them straight to its brain, a lethal distraction.”

A tamer example, the Doenut is a charmingly bright and colorful deer piñata. What’s most noteworthy about Doenut though, is what their house looks like.

For whatever reason, the Doenut’s home is a disco club, with a dancing deer neon sign. Sure, alright. Whatever makes these piñatas happiest I guess.

Macaraccoon

"The Macaraccoon is just naturally sneaky. You can trust it to behave now, but its twitchy movement doesn't inspire confidence."

Another big softie, the Macaraccoon gets the important charms of real raccoons down into a little candy-filled package. It even can upchuck Romance Candy once tamed - special food that helps piñatas breed faster if their specific requirements have already been met once before. The only downside about Macaracoons are that the game's aversion to use blacks or greys for piñatas' primary colors means that the Macaraccoon can't be a sleek monochrome, but it isn't a huge loss. The big mouth is pretty cute, it gives the Macaracoon a muppety look, almost.

Macaraccoons also come in Sour forms initially, featuring a huge rectangular shaped set of chompers they use to snack on any eggs you may have lying around. Dastardly for sure, but that red and black palette and set of oversized triangle teeth strike my fancy enough to maybe slip an egg or two its way. Hypothetically.

The Macaraccoon can be an utter pain to try and tame though, since it requires you to have 5 Master Romancer awards, only achieved once you’ve bred a piñata type at least 5 times (and keeping each child - it won’t count if you don’t have 7 members of a species in your garden at the same time).

Crowla

"When you see the Crowla, think less "dark, sinister, grave robber" and think more "garbage collector." It may stop that shiver tickling your spine."

Despite being a harmless, tamed piñata like all the others in your garden, Crowlas still has quite the mischevious grin of a ne'er-do-well that gives it a good splash of character that I like so much in my darkly-colored critter designs. Like Pokemon's own Murkrow, Crowlas has a jagged beak, nefarious-type expression, and charmingly gloomy palette. Crowlas also first appear in your garden as Sour Piñatas, but actually keep some traits from their eviller origins, namely the jagged underside of their beak. It might be my favorite of the whole bunch, honestly. Look at how devious it looks!

Sour Crowlas are much more wicked designs, thanks not only to the red and black palette, and the twisted curls of its patterns, but also the even more jagged shape of its beak, resembling a broken eggshell. I really like how most of the thing's body is dedicated to its mouth, it feels like some exaggerated enemy from another game. Sour Crowlas are quite dangerous since they'll kill sick piñatas before they can recover. Very morbid indeed!

Cocodile

"After some soothing, the Cocoadile's lethal snout becomes home to nature's widest grin."

Speaking of things that are almost entirely mouths, the Cocodile! This big gator's mouth is nearly twice the size of its own body, and its even got a bunch of rounded-down snaggletooths to boot just to make it even dopier and goofy looking. Cocodiles are actually pretty big in-game, but are entirely harmless like other tamed piñatas. In fact, Cocodiles have a utility feature, since they can be directed to water plants with their tears. Y'know, like crocodile tears, get it? I thought it was a bit clever.

There are Sour Cocodiles too, and I really like the contrast that they've got a big underbite in comparison to the normal Cocodile's overbite. That's a very imposing set of teeth, too. I've got to wonder what they're filling these piñatas with that isn't candy. Sour Cocodiles are quite a nuisance since they'll scare off any visiting NPCs in your garden, but who can blame them really?

Pigxie

"There is something very, very wrong here. I think this is a lesson in right and wrong for us all. That nagging voice in your head sometimes gets it right!"

The Pigxie isn't a natural piñata, and is instead a unique species created when you successfully get a pig-like Rashberry and a swan-like Swanana. Players hoping to receive a cool winged pig piñata will be sorely disappointed when this more realistically portrayed mutant hatches from the egg. The picture doesn't portray it well, but Pigxies are very asymmetrical and lopsided, leaning to one side at all times since their left seems to be lower down in their anatomy than the right. The left wing is smaller than the right, and its mouth even seems to be at a diagonal angle rather than the position it ought to be. Even worse, any tamed Rashberries or Swananas in your garden will try picking fights with Pigxies, as if deeply frightened and disgusted by the poor thing.

Surprisingly enough, like the Fourheads before it, Pigxies are actually capable of breeding still, but maybe it's better if you don't make that happen. One feature that I haven’t mentioned yet is that piñatas can come in ‘wild cards,’ meaning that a normal piñata will have some kind of additional feature on its body like spikes or tufts of fur. To get one means that you have to breed two piñatas while at least 6 members of that species are currently in your garden. I bring this up because these wild cards are effectively genetic mutations, unique traits and bodily growths which don’t carry down to future offspring. With enough dedication, you could. if you wanted, create a Pigxie with even more mutations. One of which includes a single, curled tusk, blocking most of its lopsided mouth.

Dragonache

"The ground shakes as it moves, the trees quiver when it roars, its breath can scorch the earth. Truly incredible and utterly terrible, and all the more desirable for it."

The final species in the original game, the Dragonache is a hidden piñata that can't be found in the wild and instead must be discovered and raised through various complex means. If players have a mine in their garden and have used it often enough, a Dragonache egg may be unearthed in it. The egg must then be hatched by a Cluckles, and then the Dragonache baby must be fed a set of five items and other piñatas before fully maturing into an adult. None of this is explained clearly in-game, but unlike some of the other strict requiremetns for taming or breeding other piñatas I think this is alright since the Dragonache is meant to be a hidden reward to experienced players.

And it certianly is quite the reward! I really appreciate how the Dragonache isn't just a typical lizard-like dragon made into a piñata, but is isntead some weird conglomeration of a creature with 4 eyes, 4 wings, 8 legs, and a spiky mane of frills. What with the various intricate and colorful patterns all over its body too, the Dragonache certianly feels like an ultra-strong mythical beast of all piñatas. The presence of a Dragonache alone will also prevent Sour Piñatas from entering your garden again, regardless if you've tamed them or not, which is a nice touch as well.

That about does it for the piñatas I wanted to cover from the first game. If any of these interested you, or if you were disappointed that your preferred animal didn't have a piñata counterpart, don't fret, as this is only a decent selection of the full game's roster. I'd say try looking into the game's catalog if you're interested in more, but sadly Viva Piñata has much less documentation online than it ought to have. Though, that's not all! As I said earlier, Viva Piñata did end up getting a sequel a couple years after its release, which added even more piñata species, and new environments to boot. I'll cover my favorite additions from that game as well, so stick around if you want to see more paper-mâché foolishness.

#viva pinata #viva piñata #creature design #creature feature

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ageless-aislynn · 1 year

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Some important news here, frens. I’ve gone back to playing Mass Effect Andromeda and, safe to say it...

Wow, do I suck, lol! The Nomad controls aren’t at all like a Halo Warthog’s and I’m finding it REALLY hard to drive. You know how people mock Kat’s driving in Halo: Reach? Well, let me tell you, Kat has NOTHING on me trying to drive a Nomad. Just today I’ve:

Got my front wheels stuck on the roof of a small building and thus me and the team were all shot to death and the Nomad blown up by those Sentinel-ish robot dudes

Fell off the side of a bluff instead of just driving down the slope area

Got upset because all of the sudden my controls were reversed: accelerate and reverse were opposite trigger buttons, going left made me go right, etc. I struggled along for a good couple of minutes before I realized, um, I was driving backwards. 😐😂

Could not turn around in a small, rocky area and caused us all to die from radiation poisoning

And the most Kat thing of all? Accidentally backed off a cliff and we all died

But I’m determined to have fun with this, even if I accidentally flew back to the ship without meaning to, oops. 😕 But hey, I finally figured out how to get back to the planet, so yay for me, right? Me and Cora and Vetra are getting things done. Very slowly. When I’m not driving us off a cliff or causing us to all burn up from radiation.

Also, I wanted to foster friendships whenever I can but I forgot what the symbol was for that and I, um, totally hit on Cora and so she had to tell me she wasn’t interested in me that way. But I hope we’re still friends? 🤞😣🤞 (Note to self: friendship is the outline of a heart, not the full heart.)

I just leveled up, though, and I made sure to level up Cora and Vetra because I have a bad habit of running away during a fight and letting them handle things. That’s probably going to not work out well one of these times but dang it, for some reason I CANNOT seem to shoot straight. My aim swings really wildly all over the place. I turned down the mouse sensitivity, hoping that would help but so far, not so much so. I’ll have to tinker some more with the controls because this is really interfering with things. 😬 Except for my hitting on Cora skillz, they were ON POINT. *facepalm*

Oh and have I ever shown you my Sara? This is from back when I started the game in Sept so I’m level 4 now and I can’t remember why Liam isn’t on my team anymore... Maybe it changed when we got to the Tempest and into space? I honestly can’t remember.

Either way, Vetra’s been awesome so I’m happy to have her on the team!

I’m not worrying about side missions and all of the things you’re supposed to buy and craft and all of that. It’s a little overwhelming, honestly, so I’m just focusing on trying to figuring out the main objectives. If I can make it through the entire game, then one day I’ll play it again and try to figure the rest of it out. Anyway, wish me luck! 💖

#mass effect andromeda #mass effect: andromeda #this is my game tag #sara ryder #i have no idea who i should try to romance #i'd just mainly like to have some friends and not you know hit on them then go from there #sorry cora #😐😂#ageless aislynn

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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 years

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Spend It Like It’s Gold

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick Pairing: Natasha “Phoenix” Trace/Jake “Hangman” Seresin Rating: E Word Count: 5593

Summary: Sure enough, he saunters on down the beach ten minutes later, grinning at her as she drops her arms from a stretch. He’s already shirtless—of course he is—and it looks like he took Mav’s baby oil advice to heart because his torso gleams like a rotisserie chicken. Phoenix rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses.

They’re told to report to the beach at 13:00. Phoenix is there at 12:15 because she doesn’t spend her lunch gossiping the way the rest of them do. Who flew which maneuver and how fast. Who spiraled off into the canyon wall, who drifted too high and alerted the SAMs, who nearly rear-ended their lead plane or raced ahead of their tail. Like any of them have anything to be proud of. Like the prep for this mission has been anything other than a masterclass in all the ways you can die in an F-18. Phoenix just had to roll her eyes and get out of there. Fucking dick-measuring contest.

What matters is preparedness, so she’s going to be the most goddamn prepared pilot here—starting with showing up almost an hour early to play football on the beach. The rest of the squadron aren’t taking it as seriously; it’s not that they would dare blow off one of Maverick’s mandatory lessons, but it’s understood amongst the group that today’s training is something different, a much-needed break from the intensity of sweating their asses off in the box with missile-lock tone ringing in their ears. What will you tell Halo’s family? Fanboy’s family? Fritz’s?

When Maverick gathered them this morning to issue their orders for the day (“Sunglasses and baby oil, folks! And I better see you smile at least once or it’s four hundred push-ups.”), Phoenix hung back and stated her intention to be ahead of schedule. Mav just nodded, said, “Initiative. Good,” and told her where to find the footballs he’d bought.

So Phoenix is early because she wants to be taken seriously, wants to be at the front of their instructor’s mind with the official assignment of who’s flying the mission getting closer each day, and also… she really wants to piss off Hangman, because she’s betting he’ll be early too.

Sure enough, he saunters on down the beach ten minutes later, grinning at her as she drops her arms from a stretch. He’s already shirtless—of course he is—and it looks like he took Mav’s baby oil advice to heart because his torso gleams like a rotisserie chicken. Phoenix rolls her eyes behind her sunglasses.

“Second,” she says before he can speak. “How’s that feel, Team Leader?”

“Ooh, I love it when you call me that.”

“I hope so, because it’s the only time you’ll hear it.”

He laughs, in good spirits, probably taking her razzing as no more than a pre-game ritual. Egg each other on, then fuck each other up. Doesn’t matter whether it’s dog fighting or beach football.

“You need me to help you stretch anything?” Hangman asks, grinning wider.

Phoenix plants her hands on her hips.

“That’s alright. Why don’t you warm up with some practice throws? Wouldn’t wanna pull a muscle.”

She’s proud of the disdain in her voice; it’s not easy to imply that Hangman’s out of shape when he’s standing in front of her, glistening. There isn’t much of a breeze, but when it kicks up, she smells pineapple and the kind of clean-sweat scent you only get by walking outside on a hot day right after showering. Leave it to Hangman to shower before something like this. He probably just did it so he could make sure his hair was freshly styled, and fuck, yeah. Something about his cocky smile and his neat, schoolboy part make her want to tousle that blond perfection. But Phoenix is fine, she’s ice-cold, she showed up first and gained the upper hand.

“You gonna make me throw to nobody?” he checks, kicking his shoes off and picking one of the footballs out of the sand. He tosses it up and catches it, waiting for her.

Phoenix gives him a pitying smile and starts walking backwards away from him.

“Well,” she says generously, “we wouldn’t want you getting tired fetching your ball, Bagman.”

It delights her that her cheap bastardization of his call sign still gets under his skin. She sees the reactive twitch of his head, as though “Bagman” is a mosquito buzzing at his ear.

“It’s Hangman,” he reminds her, because he can never let it slide.

“What did I say?”

He snorts in amusement and shakes his head before hurling the football her way. He won’t reply to that, but they toss the ball back and forth companionably enough, high arcs that lengthen as they slowly circle in the sand, trying to keep the sun out of their eyes. She didn’t expect to have enough free time to hit the beach while she was in California, so this is nice. Even if a football in her hand and a dickhead with an annoyingly shredded body standing across from her weren’t what she pictured.

“You wanna run a few?” she asks when playing catch gets too monotonous to prevent her from thinking about putting her hands on his pecs.

“You got it.” Hangman catches her throw and slaps the ball against his palm, thinking for a few seconds before he calls, “Hook!”

Phoenix jogs it, knowing he’s watching her, spinning around to face him with her hands ready. The ball sails lazily over her shoulder. She collects it with a frown.

“Where’d you learn to throw like that?” she asks as she walks back towards him.

It sort of sounds like it’d be a compliment, but he missed his target. Besides, when does she ever give him compliments? He’s got his reflection to do that. She imagines he throws himself a wink in the mirror every morning to start his day. But she doesn’t imagine it, not like that.

“My… yard,” he says lamely.

“You’re gonna lose today if you do that again.”

“You mean I don’t win just by participating?” He’s beaming again, bouncing right back.

“Harder,” she says.

“Phoenix, angelface, how’m I supposed to concentrate when you keep talkin’ dirty to me?”

Giving him a stony stare, she orders, “Run it.”

Still looking too smug, Hangman copies her pattern. Phoenix cocks her arm back and, when he turns to make the reception, snaps the ball forward so hard and fast that his hands can’t close on it before it smacks into his stomach. Phoenix smiles mildly. Ouch. Looks like it stings.

“Alright, tough guy,” he says, ambling back as he passes the ball from hand to hand. “Your turn.”

Phoenix runs again and Hangman’s next throw is better—catchable, anyway. When it’s her ball, she gives him an accurate pass without the force of the last one and they slip into another easy groove with one another, genuinely warming up instead of trying to make the other person fail.

It doesn’t take long to get thirsty and they go for their water bottles. She swallows again after her lukewarm sip’s gone down; Hangman’s turned away from her, watching a flock of birds launch from the water, and she stares at the beads of sweat that roll down his spine. Her NAVY t-shirt’s soaked, sticking to her back. The fact that she peels it off while she’s still standing next to Hangman has nothing to do with him. She’s just hot. From the sun. And he’s just being Hangman when his eyes connect with hers as he pushes his sunglasses down to rub sweat off the bridge of his nose.

“Laterals?” he suggests, and she takes another drink before dropping her bottle to the sand.

They run parallel along the shoreline, lobbing the football back and forth. The unevenness of running barefoot on sand makes her legs feel good and when she lets them give out after she and Hangman overdo it with a quarter-mile jog, she’s happy to collapse to a soft landing on the beach. Phoenix rolls onto her back, stomach and shoulders powdered in sand. Hangman drops the ball and flings himself down next to her.

“Not bad, Bangman,” she says, squinting at the sky behind her shades.

He jerks up, holding himself on an elbow.

“Bangman?”

“Bagman,” she says hastily.

She can hear his grin without glancing over.

“No, you said ‘Bangman,’” he says, settling on his back again. “I heard you.”

“Bagman plus Hangman,” Phoenix reasons, not convincing herself.

“The equation that equals one beautiful Freudian slip.” Does he have to be like this? Is he on an additional, confidential assignment to piss her off by refusing to back down like the others do when she digs her heels in? Hangman sure flirts like he’s getting paid extra. She chances a look from the corner of her eye to see him lacing his hands under the back of his head in a pose that flaunts his biceps. “Do you wanna bang me, Phoenix?”

“Yeah, in a shovel-to-the-head sorta way.”

She sits up before Hangman’s gleaming proximity and irritating, self-confident charm can have further effects on her vocabulary or anything else. Thankfully, Payback’s coming their way.

“You guys good?” he calls out. “I thought we were supposed to be meeting up back there.” He swings his arm around to point behind him.

“No, you’re right,” she says, sticking her hand out to request help up.

“You need a hand?” Hangman offers immediately. He sits bolt upright and rocks sideways into her space as Payback grips her palm. “I would love to give you—"

“Herpes, probably.”

She lets Payback yank her to her feet and doesn’t engage with the look he’s giving her. She doesn’t need to talk this out with a friend; if she talks about it, it becomes a thing, and it’s not a thing. It’s Hangman being Hangman. If she says something to Payback, she’ll have to count on him passing it on to Fanboy, and Fanboy’ll probably blurt it out assuming everybody’s already talking about it. Though Bob’s just as eager to be included, he prefers to listen to the gossip rather than contribute to it. If there were something to tell, he’d be the one to tell it to, and she doesn’t plan on saying anything to him about Hangman’s latest crash-and-burn attempt at human interaction, so there’s obviously nothing to tell.

“Do you think we’re picking our own teams?” she asks Payback, compelling him to walk faster as she strides away from where Hangman sits, grinning after her and twisting the point of the football into the sand.

—

About an hour after Maverick leaves the beach (“You’re technically dismissed, but don’t stop on my account!”), they finally let the last play go dead and pack it in for the day. Everyone’s beyond wiped. During the game, they established a blanket penalty for illegal tackles and interference: the offender was hefted under the arms and knees and chucked into the water. In a group rife with macho, win-at-any-cost mentalities, all of them but Bob got dunked, and he was only spared because nobody could ever corroborate his supposed wrongdoing. They’re all dry now anyway, smelling like sun and sea and sweat. Phoenix’s hair has dried in tangled waves that she tucks haphazardly into her bun as she stands in the shallows. The water laps at her shins. Feels damn good.

“Leave the footballs, boys,” she calls back to Fritz and Omaha.

“Phoenix has everything under control,” Hangman pipes up, standing next to them. They’re the last of the stragglers. “She’s been put in charge of all recreational equipment. Bubble wands, hula hoops, you name it. Special posting.”

They laugh while she shakes her head and faces the water. When she turns around again a few minutes later, ready to head back to the base to shower and ask Bob if he wants to go into town for dinner, she expects them all to be gone, but Hangman’s still there. He’s gnawing absently on his water bottle’s rubber spout, looking her way with unfocused eyes. The late-afternoon sun slants golden across his body, his long shadow rippling over the wet sand as waves wash up and back. Phoenix stands there and the moment stretches, her aware, him not, heat radiating off her shoulders while cool water rushes over her feet.

She notices he’s picked up her bottle and shirt, and when she walks up to him to take them back, he snaps out of his haze.

“You trying to get the position of assistant equipment manager?” she teases with a grin.

“Is it open?”

“Not to you.”

“Well, let’s call this a trial.” He scoops up the footballs and it doesn’t feel worth it to demand he give them to her to carry, so she just steps into her flipflops and slings her shirt over her shoulder.

She drove here and he jogged. Wordlessly, she offers him a ride, inclining her head towards the passenger door. The size of Hangman’s grin feels seriously disproportionate to the basic decency she’s extended. Which is obviously worrying. He dumps the footballs at his feet and buckles in, playing with the seat adjustments until she puts her car in drive. They skip the AC and cruise with the windows down.

“That was a hell of a tackle earlier,” he notes conversationally.

“Which one?”

“The one you talked your way out of getting called for.”

“That was totally legal contact,” Phoenix argues, but she’s smiling.

“Legal contact my ass. The sound Rooster made when he landed—you’d think you’d gutted him with a knife.”

“He can take it.”

“I guess he can.” She glances over to see Hangman tilt his head. He’s playing with his window control, twitching the glass up and down, but she doesn’t care as much about that as the sight of his middle finger flicking the button. “I’m glad you didn’t tackle him like you tackled me.”

Phoenix directs her eyes ahead.

“What are you complaining about? You’re fine.”

“Oh, I’m more than fine, Phoenix. Reflecting on what it felt like when you landed on top of me is not a complaint.”

She groans as they roll up to a stop sign.

“You ever gonna give it a rest?” she asks, because the constant stream of meaningless flirting is just… how does he still have the energy to mess with her? She proceeds through the intersection.

“No can do. But tell me,” he says. “Rooster. He seems special to you.”

“He is.”

“How special?”

Phoenix laughs. Then she laughs more because Hangman’s giving off such a strong impatient, insecure energy. He’s not actually asking if there’s something going on between her and Rooster, he’s just being nosy. Right?

“We go back,” she says.

It’s simpler than explaining that she figured out years before that she’d rather have Rooster as an uncommunicative friend than a moody fuckbuddy. The change has been good for them both. Nowadays, Phoenix sticks to fun, uncomplicated hookups with people like herself. People who have a strong sense of humour and self. Happy people. Confident people. She steals a look at Hangman as they pull up to the gate and are admitted onto the base. He’s looking at her like his curiosity’s only been partially satisfied but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he’s just maxed out his daily capacity for thinking about other people. At least his overinflated ego is a good source of entertainment.

“I prefer going forward,” Hangman says eventually. “Fast.”

She parks in the lot, kills the engine, and slides her sunglasses up to sit on top of her head, studying him. There’s the usual self-assured glint in his eye, the conceited flash of white teeth against tan skin, but he’s missing the unconcerned swagger he emits when the others are around. Instead, there’s something hungry about Hangman, like he wants something and, for once, doesn’t feel sure he’ll get it. Phoenix looks at his expression and it doesn’t extend an unsolicited comment—it asks a question.

She leans over and reaches down between his feet to grab a football off the floor mat, letting her arm skim the inside of his thigh as she draws it back up. Hangman’s gaze glides up her body: her hand to the cleavage above the neckline of her sports bra, her cleavage to her mouth.

“Same,” she tells him.

Then, “Glove compartment.”

He clicks it open and grins.

When they get out of the car, he follows her.

Hangman isn’t at all awkward about striding inside shirtless. He has his shades pushed up like hers and his shoulders thrust back, spinning a football on his palm. She tries to keep her chin lifted and to not look over at him as they walk side by side. They don’t pass many people, but he gives each of them a nod in greeting, completely at ease. He behaves like a king deigning to walk among the commoners. On the inside, most of her’s doing one big eyeroll. Unfortunately, another part of her—the eager, ambitious part—is mindlessly turned on by his relentless arrogance.

“You ever get tired?” she asks lightly. “Lugging that ego around?”

He shoots her a sharp grin.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed yours. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

Turning a corner, they walk into the deserted weight room, the majority of the personnel who aren’t on-shift currently having dinner. They weave between the equipment towards the storage room at the far end; it’s where Maverick was keeping the footballs, stashed beneath a neglected pile of yoga mats.

“I’m damn good at what I do,” she asserts.

“I know,” Hangman agrees.

Phoenix turns her head quickly to look at him.

“No ‘not as good as I am’?”

“Just let me admire you, would ya?” He gives her a big, winning smile. “When did somebody last take the time to appreciate you, Phoenix?”

“Well,” she says sarcastically, pulling the door to the storage room open and holding it for him, “there is the fact that I was recalled to Top Gun because I’m one of the most accomplished fighter pilots currently flying for the Navy. I’d say that counts.”

“I mean appreciated you properly,” Hangman says, lower. He lands a heavy hand on her hip as he slips around her, letting his palm drag across her stomach above her shorts.

Phoenix steps inside after him and a motion sensor triggers the overhead lights. Her hand on the door makes it shut softly. The light’s too white, harsh after the gilded beach, but when Hangman flings the footballs into a corner at random, sets his sunglasses on an empty weight rack, and turns to her, she doesn’t care.

“Yes?” he asks, moving in close to her with intense eyes locked on hers.

“Yes.”

He presses himself against her. She wants to groan at the sensation of his hot, beach-grimed skin meeting hers, but she won’t give Hangman the satisfaction this early. Hand on her lower back, he walks her into the wall. Surprisingly, the first spot he puts his mouth on is her ear. Surprisingly, she likes it, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and drawing him in as he tugs her lobe between his teeth.

All of her weakness concentrates in the hand she presses over his heart. The placement isn’t sentimental—it’s the best position from which to start taxiing her palm down his body, his taut abs a surface as dramatically rutted as that enemy airstrip is going to be when they fire the Tomahawks. Her fingertips circle his navel, then pet the trail of hair below it. She pants softly when his mouth moves to her neck.

Hangman’s hardening against her and, as she would’ve guessed, isn’t the kind of guy who’s anything but aggressive with his hips. They keep hers pinned to the wall proudly, flaunting the thick length that brushes one of her thighs as it rises before prodding between them like a preview. She tips her head forward to kiss sweat from his collarbone and she swears this sonofabitch tastes like a piña colada. Her hand falls from his abdomen to his groin, finding the base of his dick through his shorts and stroking roughly upward. He grunts and then his fingers squeeze her waist as his mouth jumps back to her ear, nibbling while he pants. It might be too quiet if he weren’t breathing directly into her ear, but it’s like he wants her to hear. He’s as showy with his horniness as he is with his flying. She has a momentary fantasy of flirting with him under her breath at the Hard Deck and then walking away to leave him standing there with an obvious erection, looking around at their squadron like, Yeah, Phoenix gets me rock-hard. So what?

Wriggling between them, Phoenix peels her sports bra off. As one hand returns to Hangman’s dick, the other grasps the back of his neck and guides his face down to her breast. She’s seen him with toothpicks between his teeth at the bar and in the classroom, the ends of pens, the leg of his Ray Bans, the bent knuckle of his index finger when he’s desperate. She’s felt his need to toy with her earlobe. It just makes sense when his mouth closes around her nipple, the tip of his tongue licking over her while his lips suck. This is being appreciated properly, à la Hangman’s oral fixation. And the man knows what he’s doing with his mouth. She can’t believe she’s never seen him tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, because she has no doubt that it’s a skill he possesses.

Her fingers tense on his nape, her back arching into the feeling as he shifts to her other nipple, sucking even harder. Her hand’s pumping him fitfully when he slides his from her waist to her hips, pulling her shorts down. So much for letting her clothes air-dry at the beach; she can feel how wet she is now, even before Hangman presses his fingers between her thighs and forces the evidence of her arousal against her. He skates her slick underwear across her clit and her hips jolt.

He wrenches her underwear down her legs and, once he works a finger inside her, they finally kiss. The startling breathlessness of it presses her head back against the wall like a high-G acceleration. Phoenix shakes her feet free of her fallen items of clothing and hikes her thigh up to Hangman’s hip. His hand closes around it and he rubs greedily over her skin as his tongue plunges deep into her mouth, making her wetter. She’s almost shaking when he adjusts his stance and adds another finger and she’s holding her hips wide and it feels so good.

“Fuck,” she moans. “Yes.” Because she wants him to hear her too. She wants him to know that her being horny for him makes her hotter.

Phoenix scratches her nails through the light scruff on his jawline and pulls his mouth back to hers before he can open it and say something that’ll ruin how much she enjoys his company when he’s not talking.

She smooths a hand down his back and cradles his ass. It’s muscular and defined under her hand and she could work it like a stress ball all day long, but what she’s really feeling for is the condom she saw him slip into his back pocket. The one from the box she keeps in her glove compartment in case she leaves the bar with somebody, in case she means to take him home but they don’t make it beyond the back seat. Preparedness: her credo in all aspects of her life. Phoenix feels the condom’s outline and plucks it from Hangman’s pocket, sneaking her hand between them and pressing the square to his chest.

“I’m not done yet,” he tells her with gruff determination. His fingers curl inside her and she finds herself riding them, struggling to keep her eyes open. “You know the one thing you didn’t criticize about how I throw a football? My spiral.”

His thumb comes down on her clit—everything slippery, his touch so firm and controlled—and he drags the pad over it in a tight circle. Phoenix’s legs quake.

“Hangman,” blurts from her mouth, the only time she can remember calling him by his correct call sign to his face.

He’s predictably smug, hitching her against him.

“Wooo!” he shouts, probably too loud, but they’re in the closed offshoot of a vacant room and Hangman celebrates himself this vocally so often that even if somebody hears him, they’ll assume he’s just thrown a crumpled ball of paper into a garbage can from more than five feet away or had his guess of a celebrity’s age verified by some other candidate who looked it up.

“Say it, baby,” he encourages with a grin that makes the irresistible laugh lines around his mouth even cuter. “Say my name.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best of the best,” Hangman counters ecstatically, pushing Mach 9 on his ego trip. “Just like you.”

And shit, maybe she is just like him, because that unexpected ego-stroke launches her into orgasm. Her hips rock hard against the hand Hangman holds steady for her and her fingers reflexively close in a fist around the condom. For a guy who flies like he’s on a solo mission, he fucks like a team player: her ragged moans inspire his own noises of pleasure. He’s clearly buzzed on getting her off. Out of kindness or cruelty, he slides his fingers out of her and firmly up over her clit—she shudders—before taking his hand away.

Some strands of Phoenix’s hair have come loose and Hangman drops her leg to tuck them back as he kisses her, both of them too intense when their mouths meet, then having to gasp for breath. The legs of her sunglasses are still caught fast in her hair.

“That was good,” she sighs honestly, patting his chest.

“Hell yeah it was.”

“So good that I’d blow you if you were anyone else, but on principle…” She frowns at him, wrinkling her nose. “…I can’t.”

She really can’t. Getting head would make him insufferable. (More insufferable.)

Hangman is all sunshine today; the motherfucker laughs and shrugs it off rather than trying to coax her down onto her knees.

“As long as…” he begins. He puts a hand over the fist she still has against his chest and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Phoenix uncurls her fingers to surrender the condom.

“Now take your goddamn clothes off.” She’s been the only one naked for long enough.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Hangman’s salute is a quick flick. He steps on the heels of his shoes and shoves them off. Holding her gaze, he brings the condom to his mouth to clamp the wrapper gently between his teeth (of course) before undoing his shorts and thrusting them to the ground along with his underwear. Her eyes pour over him—bronzed skin that’s only slightly paler in the region of his hips and groin (he must sunbathe nude and that… will be something to think about), the trail of dirty-blond hair that descends to a thatch around his straining cock. He pumps himself and puts the condom on. He’s watching her watch him and, right now, she’s ok with that.

Fast, he told her. Fast, she agreed.

He picks her up and holds her against the wall. Their mouths meet rough and hot, lips nipped by frantic accident as the head of Hangman’s dick nudges between her legs. When it seems like he might tease her with the tip, Phoenix grips his cock and directs it to her entrance. She’s wet, she’s pleasantly tired from an afternoon on the beach, and after the foreplay, she just really wants to feel him inside her. He can’t be that cocky all the time for nothing.

Hangman grins, making her wait.

“Do you wanna bang me, Phoenix?” he asks for the second time today. Her mouth pinches. She’s trying to look annoyed, but she can’t help it—she’s holding back a smile. “Come on.”

“Shovel to the head,” she reminds him stubbornly.

“And?”

She clenches her jaw—it’s getting harder not to grin—and cups his in her palm. She runs her thumb below his lower lip. Force of habit parts his lips and she slowly pushes inside, skimming the pad of her thumb along the blunt edge of his bottom teeth. He bites down softly and his cock twitches in her hand.

“I want you to fuck me now,” she says.

His lips spread in a wide, triumphant smile around her trapped thumb. She withdraws it and his smile doesn’t change.

“And who’s the best pilot?” he prompts.

“Don’t fucking push it,” Phoenix warns, and leans in for a kiss.

Right after their lips seal, Hangman thrusts up swiftly. Her mouth opens against his to gasp. She drapes her arms around his shoulders, clasping him as close as she had him when she tackled him to the sand. Which was on purpose. She could’ve tripped him or shoved him sideways and let him stumble to the ground on his own, but she chose to sprint diagonally across their playing field and hurl her body into his so she’d land on top. She could’ve climbed off of him right away, but she said his bony knee had rammed into her leg and given her a muscle spasm. She didn’t get up immediately—she felt him breathing hard beneath her, savoured the hand that passed across her back, watched him stare at her when she did stand. He was squinting, the sun above her head and right in his eyes, but he stared.

Phoenix wraps her legs around his hips and lets Hangman plough her into the wall.

He’s single-minded, vigorous, full of the kind of joy that might scare other people. There’s so much danger in their lives, but there’s thrill. Why not find a little more of that in each other? He drives into her like he either really cares about her pleasure or wants to safeguard his reputation of being a gifted, energetic screw. She assumes he has that reputation—unless she wants to know something specific, she avoids the gossip. She’s never tried to know this. Besides, Hangman’s unflinching self-confidence made certain implications without him ever needing to kiss and tell.

When she’s close, he moves faster. When she’s there, his strokes turn hard and deep and she shivers through her climax as she watches sweat drip from his hairline. She catches it at his cheek, gripping his chin and angling his head sharply to the side to lick him clean. Something just possesses her. And there’s everything: the sun, the ocean, the short hours in which they became a team. Salt and heat and pineapple and Hangman’s late-in-the-day blond stubble that she’d miss if it weren’t scraping across her tongue.

Hands clenching her ass, he thrusts until his forehead crumples and his eyes squeeze shut. He drags his lip between his teeth and bites it as he comes. It’s less than a second that he spends stuffed deep inside her, then his hips buck and buck, still so measured, still so ruthless. Committed to stretching the present like their long shadows when they left the beach.

By the time he pulls out, she’s had an experience. Hangman sets her on shaky legs, looking like he might brag about it, but Phoenix glares at him and he leaves it at a grin. She gets dressed and pushes the door open a crack while he’s still pulling his shorts up, tied-off condom dangling between his fingers. Nobody in the weight room.

“We’re clear,” she says, and he follows her out, lobbing the condom into the trash on top of used disinfectant wipes.

When she glances at him repeatedly—not his face, just his body—Hangman can’t contain his smugness.

“Gimme a few minutes and your car keys,” he instructs. “I’ll grab another condom and we can—”

Phoenix rolls her eyes.

“I’m not checking you out, I’m checking to make sure I didn’t leave any marks.”

“I didn’t feel anything, but wooo, Phoenix.” Hangman’s grin is wild. Holding the leg of his sunglasses, he twirls them between his fingers. “You the kind of girl who likes to leave marks?”

“I’m the kind of girl whose sex life isn’t anybody’s business. Including yours, Bagman.”

“Ouch. Back to Bagman.”

She gives him a genuine smile as he pulls the door to the weight room wide and gestures her through.

“Be grateful that I care enough to tease you,” she says to him over her shoulder, stepping into the hallway.

“I am, I just wish you’d tease me in a—”

Simultaneously, they notice Maverick coming to a quick stop in front of them.

“Sir,” Phoenix blurts, hearing Hangman echo her.

Their instructor nods slowly to them both, glancing between them. If he ever looks bewildered, the expression is very, very brief.

“We were just—” she begins.

“—putting some balls where they belong,” Hangman supplies, transparently chipper.

It does not help that he’s not wearing a shirt and she’s walking like—well, like what just happened happened.

“I’d rather not know,” Maverick says, making a sweeping hand gesture and sidestepping them to continue down the hallway.

Phoenix hears him mutter to himself, “Like you were any better, Mav. Pursuing an instructor? Those were the days.”

“You heard him,” Hangman says, reclaiming her attention. “These are the days.”

To make mistakes? To act without thinking? To eliminate tension before a mission? To have sex in places anybody but Mav would write them up for desecrating?

She grins.

“I guess they are.”

#my writing #Top Gun: Maverick #Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Phoenix Trace #Hangman Seresin #Natasha Trace #Jake Seresin #Phoenix x Hangman #Top Gun: Maverick spoilers #Top Gun: Maverick fanfiction

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petri808 · 1 year

Text

Twiyor AU

“Please?!” The women begs. “I heard you were some kind of Cupid; can’t you help me find a match?”

It’s another day and another coffee shop I’ve found myself in. I’d grown used to these requests, even though I’ve given up on love. Ever since the rumors spread during my college years of how my relationship recommendations equaled 100% success, it’s a never-ending routine of requests. I don’t know if it’s so perfect, and frankly don’t care anymore. Because you see, I have a gift… Take this woman sitting across the table. I can see that her hearts aura is a yellowish color which means if she falls for someone with a similar color, they’ll be a good match. Getting the gist of what I can do?

I sit back in my chair and take a sip from my coffee cup. “I don’t actually find you a match. You show me someone you’re interested in, and I’ll tell you if I think you’re a good match.”

“Oh…” the woman deflates in her chair. “I see… There isn’t anyone I’m interested in right now.”

“Then you can always contact me when you’re ready.” I throw on a professionally fake smile and stand up from the table. “Have a nice day ma’am.”

That was a waste of my time, but at least I got free coffee out of it. On my way back home, my friend texts me to see how the meeting had gone. Franky, the pest. This is all his fault, the A.K.A. rumor starter and only person who knows my secret. He even set up a website for people to find me… how thoughtful, so now my free time is taken up by this pseudo part-time job.

‘She didn’t read the description on the website,’ I text Franky back, ‘so it was a bust.’

I’m not a warm-hearted guy who’s doing this out of the kindness of my heart or care about other people’s happiness. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to see all the successful pairings when I’ve never had one in my twenty-eight years? All the thank you cards, photos, and wedding invitations from the successful pairings filled with syrupy sweetness. It’s enough to make my teeth hurt.

My phone pings, it’s Franky again. ‘Oh well she’ll be back.’

No doubt, I sigh and toss my apartment keys onto the counter before dropping onto the sofa. I’ve still got a couple more hours to kill so I close my eyes as the memories of failures run their course. Not to brag, but I know I’m a good-looking guy who’s been popular all through high school, college, even now as a salary man. Perfect blonde hair, striking blue eyes, fit build— you’d think finding a partner of my own would be easy, right? Not so. Not only can I see the hearts aura, which is akin to a person’s essence, but also their emotions in the moment like a halo glowing above their heads. Women always look at me with a superficial lust, judging me based on appearance and those ones disinterest me the most. The few times I’ve dated, it was those halos again revealing what they really thought about me. Some cheated or maybe didn’t really love me anymore, but the worst were lies. People can so easily lie, but their emotions never do with their background dark greens and browns giving it all away. Eventually, it gets tiring to even try and besides, it’s not like I know my own color to guide me. Maybe then I’d find a better match without having to play the guessing game…

It’s Friday night, and it’s Valentine’s Day, so why am I at the bar with Franky? Ugh, I’m such an idiot for letting him talk me into this. ‘We’re both bachelors,’ he’d pitched, ‘maybe we’ll get lucky.’ Well, lucks never been much of a friend and I’m more likely to end up with a stomachache.

For a Valentine’s Day the bar is comfortably full, a mixture of couples and hopefuls looking to change their status. As one could imagine, there are a lot of reds and pinks hovering over heads, then a scattered variety over the rest. I’d seen quite a few potential matches while walking in, but too bad for them that several of the couples aren’t among them.

“Loid, I just don’t get it man.” Franky squeezes and shakes my shoulder. “So, what if it might end? Sometimes gotta go through a few snags before landing the right fish. You shouldn’t rely on that gift of yours so much and just take a chance.”

Sitting at the counter with my back to it all is the best option. All the fish in this bar that Franky’s yapping about is not for me, and I’d rather not be reminded of it. Just shut up and let me drink!

I set my drink onto the bar top. “I’ve taken enough chances and I’m over it for now.”

“Tch,” Franky let’s go with a harumph. “Fine, then back to me.” He turns his body to scan the room. “Oh, hello! Beauty just walked in!”

“Maybe beauty will like a beast like you.” I snicker without looking.

“Pfft! Well, she’s looking this way… staring actually!” Franky slaps my chest in rapid succession with the back of his hand. “Take a look, is she a fit for me??”

I doubt it, I think to myself as I turn to look. It’s not that I don’t doubt she’s pretty cause Franky’s tastes only run to models but—

“Rainbow…” the words wisp from my lips before my brain can catch up to the scene. A raven-haired beauty staring in our direction so strongly it sends chills shooting down my spine. Who is this woman? It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone with a rainbow color! Most are just one, maybe two tops but not her, she’s literally sparkling like a character in a comic.

“Rainbow?” I hear Franky parrot but I’m too mesmerized to care or remember he is next to me. He’s asking more questions… jabbing my side, but all I can is do is watch— frozen to my seat as she moves towards us from the front door. My breathing slows as she gets within a meter’s length.

Her eyes flash as a beaming smile takes over, sending my heart into a tizzy and breathing to a halt.

“Wow!” She grabs my hand forcefully without hesitation, as if willed by an invisible force. “I’ve never seen a rainbow aura before on anyone else. You’re just like me!”

Huh? What? Come again?! My head tips slightly in confusion. “I’m sorry? Did you say I have the rainbow aura? Ma’am, you have the rainbow aura.”

“No, you do.” She smiles brighter. “We both do.”

“Y-You can see… my color?”

“Yeah,” her eyes sparkle again.

Sparkling like ruby gemstones glinting off the bars backlit liquor display. Her gaze is a sirens lullaby slowing time itself— I can’t look away… just taking in the vision of long dark hair against creamy light skin on slim yet toned features. The yellowish orange excitement surrounding her head is slowing melting into a reddish orange. I feel the heat rising on my cheeks the longer I stare, my own color no doubt changing to red as well if the surprised look on her face is any indication. Shit! This is the first time this ability has made me feel so self-conscience!

“Tch,” I hear Franky’s annoyed tone, “I’ll catch ya later Loid.”

“Yeah…” I respond back without breaking eye contact with the woman. I’d forgotten he was even there.

“I’m sorry for interrupting sir.” The woman directs her words towards Franky who merely nods and walks away before turning back to me. “Um… mister Loid?”

Her voice snaps me out of the void. “Oh, yes. Sorry how rude of me,” I quickly gesture to Franky’s now vacant bar stool. “Please, if you’ll join me.”

Considering the enthusiastic lack of hesitation earlier, now it’s so cute how this beauty’s turned shy. I do my best to focus on her and not look at the colors dancing around her because Franky did have a point about not relying on auras. Though from the rosy hue of her cheeks, coyly down-casted eyes and upturned lips, to the fidgeting fingers in her lap it’s obvious which emotions are plaguing her.

I take her trembling hand and kiss it’s back. “I’m Loid Forger,” I flash a smile, “and you are?”

She pulls her hand back only to tuck some loose tendrils behind her ear in a nervous gesture. “M-My name is Yor Briar. I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion, I was just so happy to see someone else like me I couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s okay,” I smile sweetly. “I’m happy too, but I don’t want to ruin your plans either, are you meeting someone here?”

“Ah!” She suddenly straightens out as if remembering suddenly, turns and scans the room as she continues talking. “Yes, my co-worker… but I don’t… see her yet.” Yor let’s out an exhale of relief. “She’ll be surprised to see me sitting with a man.”

“Oh?”

Yor blushes again with her shoulders slumping in embarrassment. “I—I’ve always been too shy to deal with men.”

I chuckle lightly, “but I bet with your looks there’s been many suitors.”

So adorable! I laugh internally at how cute she is, because if Yor blushes anymore fiercely her hair might catch fire. She turns her gaze fully to the floor unable to meet my eyes.

“I could say the same for you.” Yor responds in a soft voice. “Besides, I’d never met my hearts match before.”

Now it’s my turn to blush. So, she knows how the colors work, I shouldn’t be surprised considering it didn’t take me long to figure it out either. In middle school when classmates started dating, I began noticing a pattern between the couples that lasted and the couples that didn’t. I don’t think those relationships were as stable though because even those with the same color would sometimes break up, so it wasn’t until college that I fully understood. Anyway, there is one difference between us.

I sigh light-heartedly, “neither had I,” before perking up again, “but at least you can see your own aura, because I can’t that made it more difficult to know who would be a match.”

“Oh, really?” Yor perks up as well and meets my gaze. “I suppose that’s true.”

After ordering new drinks, our conversation continues for several more minutes before Yor’s friend finally shows up. Based on the interweaved green and red pulsing around her, the female coworker whose name is Millie is jealous that Yor caught my attention. So, they’ve come tonight as part of the hopeful crowd. Sorry Millie, but my hearts already taken.

“So, exactly what is it you do Mr. Forger?” Millie questions with a grilling tone to her voice.

Is she asking for her friend’s sake or for her own. Not that it matters to me. I throw on my fake professional smile for the woman. “I’ve always been great at understanding people, so I became a psychiatrist. It’s my own practice but I do work for the hospital as well as provide pro bono services for the local orphanage.”

“Wow,” Millie keeps her outward expressions emotionless trying to hide her annoyance. “You’re such a great guy to help those orphans. Yor’s lucky to have met you.”

Oh, the flickering jealousy is so amusing. Millie’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets in surprise. A philanthropist doctor?! She’s practically seething over it, so why not go in for a kill shot? Shut this woman up and impress Yor at the same time, it’s two birds with one stone. “I do it because I enjoy it. Those kids have gone through a traumatic experience, so I couldn’t help but be moved— enough so, that I ended up adopting a bright little girl named Anya who really captured my heart.”

My chest puffs out unconsciously when I see Yor’s face brighten like a blooming rose and Millie’s faux smile falters. I already know we’re a good match, but I want Yor to want me for more than just some supernatural power. Plus, the story isn’t a complete lie. Originally, I adopted Anya for a tax write off— yes, I know that’s despicable, but it didn’t take long for the precocious child to win over my heart.

Millie recovers quickly and redirects toward her friend. “Are you willing to be a stepmom Yor?” She asks no doubt hoping her friend will be taken aback at a sudden change like motherhood.

“Yes!” Yor replies quicker than I’d expected and with much enthusiasm. She’s practically on the edge of her seat, eyes sparkling at such an idea. “I don’t mind at all. After my parents died, I had to take care of my younger brother, so I have a lot of experience already though…” Yor shrinks back a little. “I’m not a very good cook.”

Oh, this is perfect! My smile brightens. “I’m sure you’d make an amazing mother Yor.” But, perhaps it’s time to let things marinate a little as well. “Well lady’s,” I stand up from my seat. “It’s been fun, but I must get up early to pick my daughter up from her sleepover tomorrow, so it’s time for me to leave. You both have fun.” I then take Yor’s hand again and place a chaste kiss to the back of the knuckles. “Though you, not too muchfun,” I tease, “may I contact you tomorrow?”

Yor’s rainbow aura shimmers along with the flash of an embarrassed and beaming smile. “Y-Yes! Of course, I look forward to it.”

Me too, Ms. Briar… me too…

Did my aura just shimmer too as if calling out to its match? I can’t see my own aura but somehow it sure feels that way. I squeeze her hand with a final kiss to her cheek. “Then till tomorrow.”

The moment I’ve turned my back to them, I can’t help but smile to myself. Such a totally unexpected event! I’ll thank Franky later. Tis a Happy Valentine’s Day after all…

#twiyorvalentine #twiyor #valentines day #twiyor fanfic #spy x family #loid forger #yor briar #no beta we die like men #I don’t have time to edit

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yeowangies · 1 year

Note

Can I request NSFW prompt #124 for Raditz where the reader keeps teasing him by switching into sexy costumes every hour and pretends to not know why he's turned on? The smut prompt list is on @rainysoot page if you need to find it.

PAIRING: Raditz/Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Explicit sexual content, light spanking, dom/sub undertones, rough sex. WORDCOUNT: 3255

Notes:

I had so much fun writing this because I would actually do this to whoever I'm dating, I'm that bitch (then again, who isn't).

These are the costumes I mention in the fic (some of these are not even costumes, they're straight up lingerie, but man I LOVE THEM): first, second, third, fourth.

“Bulma, what did you buy me? I only asked you for one outfit.”

“I know, but you were ranting so badly that I knew I had to do something.”

“So getting me FOUR outfits is your solution?!”

“Definitely!”

“And you even got me a bunny costume… I thought that was your thing…”

“Well yours is pink.”

“I can see that… And it’s velvet… Ok, I like it.”

“See, I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“I’m not, it’s just… four costumes is too much, don’t you think?”

At least there’s variety. You have tried lingerie in the past, but sharing your experience with Bulma made you realize that Saiyan apparently do not care about that. The only thing Raditz kind of likes is a satin nightgown you wear sometimes, but it’s not that he likes it but more like you like it and he fucks you while you wear it. Surprisingly, it hasn't been ripped off yet.

“Does Vegeta actually like any of those things?”

“Well, he did like my bunny costume.”

“Really?! Would have never guessed he was into that…”

“I know, right? He doesn’t like lace but he likes that? Saiyans are weird.”

“I wonder what Goku likes now…”

“I don’t think his mind goes that far.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Goku and Chichi have been married for years, and spent the first five years alone together, what do you think they did? Certainly not play card games.”

You hear the front door open, and quickly hang up.

“I gotta go.”

“Good luck!”

You kick the box with the costumes under the bed and head for the living room to greet Raditz. He looks tired and dirty, like he always does after he comes back from training, and you quickly urge him to shower, which he does, looking at you curiously as he goes into the bathroom.

What you’re going to do may be a little mean, but you wonder if he would even realize that what you’re going to wear is meant to be sexy. Would he even care? You’re positive he’s going to notice by the third or fourth outfit change, if the first ones don’t work. You have to start with the least revealing one after all. But, in the best case scenario, Raditz will not only notice, but you might even rile him up. You grin mischievously, hoping that the latter happens quickly.

The angel costume is cute. Barely seems like a costume, but more like a cute pastel pink dress, a little too short maybe but still, a cute dress. You feel silly putting on the halo and the wings.

When Raditz walks into the kitchen after showering and putting on clean clothes, you’re already there, innocently making tea.

“What are you wearing?” You hear him ask behind you, and he does sound confused, and you smile as oblivious as you can, before turning around.

“Do you like it? It’s cute, right?”

“I- I don’t know…” He frowns, looking at you up, down, then up again. “Do humans actually wear that to go outside?”

“Of course!” You lie.

“...Why is it so short?”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t think this is really my size.”

It is your size. And the purpose of the dress is for your ass to be seen if you were to bend over a little. But you aren’t going to say that.

“Do you like it?” You ask again.

Raditz shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed on you for a moment before going to sit at the table.

“It reminds me of that dress you wear to sleep sometimes.”

You pout at his apparent indifference, and quickly serve him his tea.

The wings are uncomfortable, you can’t wait to take them off, but you notice the little glances Raditz throws your way. He is interested, but he isn’t doing anything about it. Maybe you should inspire him more.

As you go through the rest of the costumes in your room, you realize how raunchy the rest of them are. The last one in particular… it’s too much, and you’re going to be embarrassed to even put it on, but you still have two outfits to try on before that one. The maid costume is next, and it’s sexy while being wearable, even if almost completely see through. Looks more like actual lingerie than a costume.

You peek into the living room to see Raditz watching TV (it amuses you how easily he has grown to like watching series and movies). Breathing in deeply, you walk into the living room, casually striding towards the kitchen.

“What is that?!” You hear him sputter behind you, and you try to contain your smile as you turn around to face him.

“What?”

“That thing you’re wearing!”

“Oh, it’s a cute outfit, isn’t it?” You ask breezily.

Raditz narrows his eyes at you, and you notice the tip of his ears getting slightly red. You purse your lips so as not to blatantly laugh in his face.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“What? No? What are you talking about?”

“I doubt human women actually wear that to go out.”

“Um, well, you’re just not into what’s trendy right now…”

“I literally never see you wear shit like that.”

“I’m just trying to be a la modé, ok?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I’ll take it off if you don’t like it.” You sigh, feigning offense.

“...No, that’s fine.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you start preparing dinner, more specifically on your ass, the skirt left very little to the imagination after all, and you only had your panties underneath it. Raditz is staring, but why isn’t he doing anything? He was never this hard to break before. Except the times he was completely oblivious to your insinuations, that usually involved flirting with words on your part, not walking around in flimsy tiny clothes. Maybe he just isn’t that into the outfit, as cute and sexy as you thought it is.

Time for the heavy artillery then. The bunny outfit is next.

Raditz is still staring intensely when you leave the kitchen to walk into the bedroom, and for a second you think he will actually follow you. But when he doesn’t after a minute, you quickly put on the pink velvet body, along with the ears and other accessories.

When you go back into the kitchen again, he actually splutters the water he’s drinking at the same time he drops the fork he has in his hand, loudly clinking once it falls on the floor, spilling food, and making you frown.

“Hey, you’re gonna have to clean that now!”

“Why do you keep changing clothes?!” Raditz yells, clearly flustered. “And what the fuck is that?!”

“What?” You ask, playing ignorant.

“That thing you’re wearing!” He squints from his seat, carefully taking you in. “You… actually look like some kind of rabbit?”

“It’s a bunny-”

“It’s so short! I can see so much of you!”

“It’s supposed to be like that.” You clear your throat and roll your eyes. “It’s, uh… nice, right?”

Raditz is eying you like he’s trying to determine whether you’re serious or playing some kind of joke on him, and you quickly look elsewhere so you don’t end up snickering in his face. You know for sure the outfits are having some kind of effect on him when you notice that he’s blushing hard.

However, that’s all he does, stare and blush.

Why is he not doing anything?

You’d be offended if it isn’t for the fact that you have sex practically every day. Besides he has that look in his eyes you know too well, he’s practically devouring you with an intense gaze that never leaves you as you walk around in the kitchen.

You don’t know why he’s holding back, but if the last outfit doesn’t work, you’re going to be furious.

Especially because it’s not even an outfit, it’s basically lingerie, and extremely raunchy at that. Probably on the verge of being vulgar. But then again, Bulma bought it so you didn’t expect anything less. It has to work. You can’t even play innocent while wearing it, it’s going to be painfully obvious you’re trying to provoke him when you put it on.

Trying not to blush and feel embarrassed about wearing something so revealing, you peek into the living room from the bedroom. Raditz is not there, and you hear water running from the bathroom sink, noticing the door open ajar. He’s probably brushing his teeth. As silently as possible, you walk into the living room, picking up the plates quickly to put them on the sink. For a second, you consider getting on top of the dining table to pose or something, but you already feel a little silly while wearing the lingerie set, and it isn’t exactly the most comfortable either, so you desist.

You freeze when you hear the bathroom door close, and turn around to see Raditz standing by the hall. His eyes widen as his gaze travels up and down your body several times, and you cannot help your own blush this time around. Neither of you speak, and you bite your lip, feeling a little more embarrassed the more he just keeps his eyes fixated on you without moving.

You jolt slightly when he walks towards you, and in the blink of an eye, you’re pressed against the table, cheek flush on the cool top with his hand on your back, keeping you in place, and you cannot help the loud yelp that leaves your lips.

“What are you doing?!” You ask him, flinching when he squeezes your ass.

“Don’t pretend to be so innocent.”

His hand on your ass squeezes your flesh again, and you gasp when he suddenly slaps you on your right cheek, not really hard, but it still surprises you. The next slap is on your left cheek, and you moan this time, bracing your hands on the edge of the table.

“Look at me.” Raditz says, the hand on your back traveling up to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back enough so you can turn your head. There’s a frustrated yet completely alluring grin on his face when you gaze at him. “You were trying to rile me up, weren’t you?”

You smile mischievously, arching your back to better show off your curves to him.

“Oops, you got me.” You say flatly.

He chuckles darkly, letting go of your hair as both of his hands slide towards your waist, digging his fingers onto your skin before moving downwards again. He kneads your ass once more, and you jump slightly when you feel two of fingers running over the fabric covering your sex. As he presses them deeper, rubbing from bottom to top, you moan.

“You’re already wet, and I haven’t done anything.” He teases you, and you huff.

Before you can retort, he moves the panties aside and slips two fingers inside you, making you gasp. He’s pumping them in and out of you with deliberate force, slowly yet hard, and you’re almost embarrassed listening to the wet sounds his moves produce; he was right, you’re wet and he really hasn’t done much. Your idea of riling him up by changing clothes has definitely affected you as well if you are already this turned on.

Then again, Raditz had bent you over the table in the blink of an eye, and that’s always a turn-on.

You squeak when he turns you over so you’re lying on your back, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. He has a feral look in his eyes, and a wolfish grin adorning his face, and you blush under the intensity of his expression, desire pooling in your abdomen. When he runs a heavy hand over your sternum and down your stomach, you’re not too far gone to know he wants to tear off your clothes.

“Hey, if you like this, do not rip it!” You warn him.

Raditz looks at you like he’s considering it before nodding quickly. You sigh, relieved; you want to keep the set if it’s that powerful. He plays with the strings on your stomach before running his hand up your chest, pushing the bra up to free your breasts. You moan when he slides his fingers over one of your nipples, and whine when he pinches it.

Leaning in, he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking it gently as his hand finds your entrance, easing two fingers in again. You pant, running your fingers through his hair, tugging at it when he grazes his teeth on your skin. Tightening your legs on his torso, you squirm under his ministrations; you’re more than ready to have him inside you already. But he seems to be enjoying himself, especially when you cry out as he sucks on your nipple, feeling the smirk on his lips against your skin.

“Stop teasing me…”

“Why? Weren’t you doing the same thing to me all day?”

“I- ah!” You gasp when he pumps his fingers faster. “Yeah, but-”

He’s chuckling again, sliding his lips up towards your neck, running his tongue over your jaw.

“I knew you were doing it on purpose.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You huff, exasperated.

You whine when Raditz pulls away from you altogether, clinging tightly to his shirt.

“Take off your clothes…”

He smiles smugly at you and surprisingly complies, muscles flexing when he takes off his tank top and tosses it on the floor. You’ve seen him naked plenty of times, but it still leaves your mouth hanging open every time you see him undressed. He leans down to kiss your stomach, licking around your belly button as he pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock. You wiggle impatiently, pressing your feet on his back to get him to hurry up and fuck you already.

“Impatient much?” Raditz pulls away and smirks down at you.

You glare at him as he untangles your legs easily off his waist to prop them on his shoulders, his tail wrapping around on one of your thighs.

“I should really make you pay for teasing me so much.” He says, sliding a hand over one of your breasts and pinching your nipple, making you gasp.

You look at him, worried; surely he wouldn’t keep teasing you, would he? He must be hard already and not in the mood to delay his own pleasure.

Luckily, you feel his erection gliding over your folds soon enough, and you cry out when he pushes in all the way in one swift move.

“But you look too tempting to hold off much longer.” He groans, staring at you with pure lust in his eyes.

Raditz doesn’t give you a chance to say anything, pulling his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in hard, making you moan loudly when you feel him hit inside you just right. Setting a rough pace, he holds tightly onto your legs, digging his fingers in your skin as his hips snap against yours. Loud noises spill from your lips and you can’t help it, he’s fucking you hard and fast, making your body jolt with his every move.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you run your nails down his arms, almost desperately. That vicious pace he has set is already making your legs shiver, and his cock is so thick, it fills you up so good, your mind going blank with every thrust. One of his hands slides down your thigh, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it harshly, making you clench around him in response. He groans, his pace faltering as his hips jerk forward, and you mewl, clinging to his biceps.

Raditz fucks you hard often, unless that’s not the mood any of you are in at the moment, and you love him for it, but it feels different this time. He’s rough, almost brutal, and you briefly wonder how powerful the lingerie set is if it triggers him this way, and how powerful you are while wearing it.

You’re aware he basically just started fucking you but the heat in your abdomen is tightening faster than you expect, every thrust of his hips against you pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Closing your eyes and throwing your head back, you clearly feel the table moving dangerously underneath you, hear it creaking loudly with Raditz’s every move, as well as the loud smack of skin slapping against skin, and his low grunts and groans every time his dick slips in and and out of you. It’s becoming too much too quickly.

A whimper escapes your lips when one of his hands strokes your breast, tweaking your nipple, before sliding down your abdomen. Your entire body jolts when he rubs your clit with his thumb, and you gasp, digging your nails on his arms.

You try to warn him about your impending climax, but Raditz leans down and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, swallowing down every one of your moans. Your legs are pressed against your chest, and you’re completely bent over and at his mercy while his fingers work you closer to your release. You’re breathless as his hips snap forward, pumping his cock into you hard, not letting up for one second, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck, hands tugging at his hair to somehow let him know you’re going to come soon.

“I know you’re close.” He groans against your lips with a shaky voice. “I want to feel you come.”

Raditz keeps his gaze fixed on your face when your orgasm washes over you, your body quivering underneath him. Pleasure pulses inside you, making your mind go blank. You clench around his dick, and he growls deep in his chest, hips snapping forward roughly.

Shortly afterwards, he comes with a low groan, thrusting in deeply, hands holding tightly onto your legs. You whimper when his cock throbs inside you, filling you with cum, and your body shakes when he pumps into you, riding out his peak.

Your arms untangle themselves from his neck and fall limply on the table when Raditz kisses you, feeling almost completely drained to even return it. You kiss, lazy and sloppy, as he lets go of your legs, tail unraveling itself from your thigh.

The afterglow only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, slipping out of you. You get to blink idly at him a couple of times before you’re promptly turned around, once again with your cheek pressed flush against the table top.

“Wha-”

“I’m not nearly done with you.” Raditz sneers with a hand on your back, keeping you in place. “You teased me the entire day, you think you can get away with it?”

When you open your mouth to reply, a stuttered moan escapes you as he starts eagerly rubbing your clit. Your legs tense, overstimulated, and you grip the edge of the table tightly, afraid you might actually fall off of it at the abruptness of his touch.

You don’t have it in you to protest much, voice almost gone from the first round, and you’re dreading how many times he’s actually capable of putting you through orgasm after orgasm; yet at the same time, you cannot wait to find out, and you already feel heat blooming in your lower abdomen once more by the time you feel his cock pushing inside you.

#dbz fanfiction #dbz imagine #dbz fics #raditz x you #raditz x reader #dbz #dragon ball z #raditz #my writing #requests

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