#or even enough information to imagine the costumes
Text
Pinprick in the Backdrop
The background is something you should always pay attention to.
>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader
>Warnings: not specified to avoid spoilers. please proceed with caution.
>Word count: ~15k (slow burn)
>a/n: proofread to the best of my capabilities. if there's any spelling error, pls ignore
There are always some people you see everyday without fail on the train. Some you find on your way to the station and in the train, some on the train, and some when you step out of it. Most of you have never talked to each other, but you recognise them. Even if the middle aged lady who always sits near the door of car 7 changed her hair colour completely.
You can still recognise them. Seeing their face isn’t a requirement. It’s their existence that matters. It’s especially funny when you call the teenagers by name on Halloween despite the costumes they’re wearing.
Perhaps you missed a great opportunity to go into criminology or become a detective. Maybe even a spy. However, what’s done is done. You can’t say you hate your job, so you suppose it’ll do as long as you’re able to live a comfortable life and send some money back home to your parents.
Speaking of money, your boss - or should you say the man who also overlooks the finance department - has been absent from work for two weeks. It’s the main reason why your salary this month hasn’t come in yet. Why they decided to not pay you all is a mystery, but why your boss has disappeared is a bigger mystery. The money you have left in your account isn’t enough for the entire month, so they better pay you all soon.
-
The penitence of innocents always baffles you. There was nothing you could have done, nothing you could have changed, so why? Why does the human conscience produce these feelings of guilt? Maybe it’s because you unconsciously recall times when you were cruel or times when you had ignored to cherish the moments.
At the end of the day, it’s puzzling feelings like these that make you human. Black jacket hugged closer to your body, you head back to your desk, shaking the mouse as you try to wake up the monitor. Your boss is dead. The reason why it took so long to confirm was because he died in a different country and his cell phone was destroyed.
Another mystery is why he flew to a different country on a weekend, and that too for just four days. He didn’t even have any family there. They all live here, so imagine their surprise when they find out his ‘business trip’ was actually a personal one. You don’t question why they didn’t bother to contact his workplace when he didn’t return.
Quite a lot has happened within the span of a few days. First there was the news of your boss being pronounced dead. That was followed by the memorial they had in the office, and lastly, your salaries finally came in. You can refresh your savings now.
Still, the radical change in circumstances you cannot get over. Your boss, the half bald guy whose biggest transgression was making jokes in poor taste, dead? The information you all were given is vague. He left for a different country, somewhere in the Mimbo Republic to be specific, from Yorbia, where you are. It’s not your job to dig into people’s business, but this seems too fishy because his family also refuses to utter a word.
Thus, like all women trying to find information on a man they are interested in, you turn to the internet. Scrounging through news articles of accidents and injury and deaths, you finally find a few noteworthy ones from the day he supposedly passed away.
The darkness in your bedroom adds to the suspense, light solely coming from your backlit keyboard and the open window. It doesn’t help that it’s past two in the morning, almost three, but you’re determined as you scan through descriptions of a ‘buy and sell’ gone wrong.
Two hundred people. That is how many died at that event.
To be fair, the entire administration and security also kicked the bucket, and the attendees were around one hundred according to the article. None of this still makes sense. Was your boss among those people? If yes, why would he be at such an event?
Scratch that, his family definitely knows something.
After spending a little less than an hour snooping around, you finally shut down your laptop and go under the covers. It’s understandable when sleep doesn’t come easily.
-
The commute to work was the same as usual. The only difference was that one of the girls in your neighbourhood was nowhere to be seen on the train. Maybe she skipped school today. Despite the ordinary day, you are in no mood to entertain when familiar footsteps grow closer and closer to your desk.
“Hi, [Name]!”
You wish you left the building for lunchtime after all.
“You’re not going out for lunch?”
With the most uninterested face you can make, you shrug, eyes not leaving the monitor. If he gets the hint, he leaves. If he doesn’t… you’ll just excuse yourself and leave.
“So you’re not eating?” He’s behind you now, eyes fixed onto your monitor as he tries to make sense of the gibberish. “Your work requires a lot of thinking. You should eat something.”
“Not right now,” you sigh. “I have a whole hour left. I’ll eat when I feel like it.”
You know what this guy is doing. His engagement recently went wrong when he found out his ex-fiance was cheating on him, and now he’s seeking out someone to fill the hole. Quite literally in his case, but whatever. Perhaps you would have given him the time of day if he wasn’t so obvious and desperate… or if you ever bothered to remember his name.
It’s worse when you remember that you didn’t recognise him after the break-up. Chills. That’s what you felt. It’s best to keep your distance. He isn’t the same guy who gushed about the love of his life 24/7. There’s something unstable around him.
“Well, whenever you feel like it, just shoot me a text.” His hands grab the edge of your backrest, just millimetres away from touching your back. “I want to treat you to lunch.”
Closing the tab and opening another one, you voice your response. “Sorry, but I brought food from home. I’ll be eating that.”
“Oh.” he sounds disappointed. “No worries. I’ll treat you some other time then.”
Note to self. Bring lunch from home everyday from now on. If that’ll help keeping him off your back then so be it.
-
It has now been two weeks since your boss’ memorial was held. His replacement has already been hired, but you can’t bring yourself to bother too much. Some of your coworkers have started cozying up to him and buttering him up which is intimidating the poor man. Workplace politics is something you could never have prepared yourself for.
Another thing you couldn’t have prepared yourself for is adulthood. Why is it so hard to choose what to eat? You can’t live off of takeout because it’s not healthy, and whenever you fail to finish eating the fruits you got before they go bad makes you feel like more of a failure. Thus, with great determination, you end up buying half a dozen apples.
If you eat one daily, you’ll finish them all in under a week. More items are added to your trolley and when you finally exit the self-service checkout, you roll your shoulders, readjust your backpack, manoeuvre the plastic bags into a more comfortable position, and begin the walk home.
It’s nighttime, just one hour away from the shops closing. You know you’re safe because almost all of the people you are familiar with. There are only some here and there who you haven’t seen before, but they’re all normal. It’s evident from the way ‘it’ is stable around them. ‘It’ is light and calm.
After a fifteen minute walk, you’re at your apartment building. Unfortunately, you wasted too much time walking around after you got off work and now you’ll have to eat dinner late. Well, it’s not like your sleep schedule is fixed anyway. Another day of sleeping late shouldn’t hurt. It’s the weekend now anyway.
-
It is on this wonderful Saturday afternoon that you realise you don’t have friends. Clarification. You don’t have friends where you live.
After graduating, all of your friends either stayed in the same city or moved away somewhere else entirely. None of them came here, or anywhere in Yorbia for that matter. It’s realisations like these that force you to ponder over your future. What are you going to do? What’s your aim?
Before, it was to graduate and get a decent job. Now that you have that, what now?
With the lack of ice cream in your freezer, maybe you should start with procuring dessert. What about takeout as well? You could go for an evening walk, watch the sunset and get food for dinner altogether. That sounds nice.
Laptop turned on, you type in the address of a shady website and start browsing through the movie catalogue. Today, you will relax. Having hours of screen time isn’t a good idea, but it’s the weekend. Mistakes don’t count.
-
Maybe I should get mama and papa to move in with me after papa retires. That’s your thought when you head to the supermarket to get ice cream with takeout in hand. Getting food before ice cream wasn’t the best idea since it’ll be cold by the time you get home, but what’s done is done.
Life is lonely here. Sitting at home, alone, eating takeout and ice cream out of the tub while shows you’ve rewatched more than five times play on the TV. Maybe you should make some friends, but where?
Your workplace doesn’t have anyone, let alone any girl, your age. You also haven’t met anyone you wanted to be friends with. They’re all blended into the familiar background.
Paying with your card, you leave the self-service checkout counter and ready yourself for the walk back home. It’s more fun when you’re leaving the house for a walk, not the other way around.
Still, you take in the people around you like you do all the time. Most people you know, you recognise. You’ve been seeing them for so long. There are always a few who are a little odd as ‘it’ is a little unruly around them, like your notorious coworker. However, ‘it’ is still light and faint but most importantly familiar. That’s the most comforting thing about it. The familiarity is what’s important.
So imagine the surprise and utter shock you feel when ‘it’ is as dark as the night sky around a stranger you have never seen before.
The darkest you have ever seen is something similar to how dark yellow is compared to pure white. So seeing something as contrasting as jet black to white, you can’t help it when the bags fall from your hand and onto the ground.
You’re frozen on the spot, mouth hung open as you stare wide eyed at the stranger who stands just a few metres ahead of you. He doesn’t notice at first, too busy speaking over the phone to pay attention, but when his eyes fall onto you, they’re slow and knowing, like he’s been aware of your gaze since you saw him among the others around you.
A few deep, trembling breaths, and you grab the bags off the ground and dash by him as fast as you can without it seeming too obvious you saw something. This time you do not pause to soak in the familiarity of the surroundings. Your only goal is to get home.
-
Bringing lunch from home is starting to get tiring. You have to wake up earlier and pack leftovers as well as make sure you have leftovers or cook something the night before in case you don’t. All because some weirdo who’s hung up on his ex can’t take a hint. To be fair you don’t have the guts to outright say no as well.
Maybe you should work on that.
Today, you decided to take a walk on the pier near your apartment building. It’s also a fifteen minute walk away since it’s close to the supermarket. Nevertheless, you sit down on a bench and just watch the water.
It’s soothing, being idle like this. God, you really need a break.
Families and couples who you usually see around walk about the area. There’s something so special about this. This comfortable bubble you’ve created. Sure, you’re lonely with most of your social interaction being the neighbourhood kids or the teenagers on the train, but it’s all so comfortable.
It’s warm. Maybe you should ask your parents to visit. They’d like it here. The accessible sea and half middle aged or above population would be something they’d like.
The sun has gone down now, and the moon has started to become visible. So, with reluctance to let go of the passing time, you get up, backpack once again on your shoulders, and start the walk back home. Maybe you should also get an actual bag instead of using the one you did in university. You know, something that’s more feminine.
Regardless, as long as this one works, you’ll use it. No need to get a replacement if the thing isn’t destroyed yet. Wait, scratch that. Should you get more ice cream? Brownies maybe? The supermarket is right here and they have a section for freshly baked items. The brownies were amazing when you last got them.
You abruptly turn on your heel, completely determined to get what you are now suddenly craving. One step forward and you collide with something, getting pushed back a few steps from the force of whatever kind of brick it was. Barely are you able to regain your balance. Had you fallen, your laptop would not have survived.
You raise your head to look at what it was you walked into, ready to curse while there are no children around, but are completely frozen when you see him again. ‘It’ is large, so much more prominent and stronger than what you have seen in all the years you’ve lived. It’s like it’s protecting him, gently swirling around him like a protective layer.
It’s menacing, to say the least. You have no strength to utter a single word when the stranger steps closer to you, tilting his head as he inspects you for any injuries.
Or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.
You’re absolutely horrified at how ‘it’ seems to dissipate as he steps closer, the presence of it almost completely gone. It’s now as noticeable as it is for everyone, but you can still see the darkness of ‘it’. No way does it help that you can now also feel the mancing aura it has.
“Are you alright?”
Blinking at him, you come back to the present situation, the background noises coming back to invade your senses. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, and your chest feels extremely heavy. Why is it so hard to breathe?
“Ah, it seems like the collision stunned you. It’s okay. I apologise for bumping into you.” The stranger smiles, and it causes bile to rise up your throat. You don’t like how he’s still looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.
“Hello? Are you alright, miss? Really, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles. You, on the other hand, fail to see what’s so humorous.
It takes a few more seconds to compose yourself, but your heart still beats loudly, spelling out the letters R-U-N in bold capital letters. However, social etiquette forces you to take a deep breath, bow, and voice your apology.
The stranger fails to get another word in before you awkwardly fast walk away with the nagging memory of the bandage covering his forehead and dark bangs messily falling over them.
-
Today, you walk home from the train station as fast as you can. The encounter yesterday has shook you to the core, and until you don’t see this stranger for a month straight, you will not cease the hurried travel back home.
Whoever this man is, you do not want to be within even a 10 metre radius of him. Something is definitely off about him, and in your experience the darker ‘it’ is, the worse person they are. You just don’t know what ‘it’ as dark as his means.
Nevertheless, fate likes to throw a pie on your face and laugh at you because he’s standing right outside your apartment building.
Fuck. That’s your only thought. Maybe you’ll hang around the neighbourhood or walk on the pier until he leaves. Yeah. better make yourself scarce. Unfortunately, fate throws another pie because when you turn your back and start quietly walking away, he notices you and calls out.
The bastard calls out to you.
Oh fuck me, you think. So much for not wanting to see him again. What does he even want? Does he want to know why you look at him like you’ve seen the man murder people countless times before?
“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your evening,” he says as he jogs up to you. How he noticed you while you were literally a building away you do not know. “I saw you leave this building in the morning, so I figured you live here. I’m sorry for intruding like this.”
‘It’ is still barely there like yesterday. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the suffocating aura he has. Awkwardly, you sputter out a greeting. “Oh uh, h-hi.” The bandages aren’t there today, but those Godforsaken earrings are still there and his forehead is still covered by a hat. Does he have a receding hairline he doesn’t want to show?
He’s smiling at you, and you’re now noticing how wide and innocent looking his eyes are.
“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Again, I’m sorry about the collision yesterday.”
You look at him for a few more seconds, heart beating erratically in your chest. “[Name]. And it’s okay. It was an accident on my part as well.”
Chrollo tilts his head slightly, eyes fixed on you and giving you his full attention. “Ah, that’s a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely lady.”
You have never cringed this hard in years. Still, you force yourself to awkwardly laugh just to be polite and attempt to cut the conversation short. There’s no reason you should stick around. It’s utterly pointless and risky considering how his mere presence makes you feel.
“Excuse my forwardness,” Chrollo says, “but I was wondering if there are any good restaurants here I can try. I’m staying here at a hotel nearby until I find a proper accommodation, so I was hoping you could give me some recommendations.”
You open your mouth to say something just to stop short of any sound exiting your mouth. What comes next is an apology. Be useless to him. Don’t give him any reason to seek you out again. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t lived here long enough to know.” Wait, that makes it sound like I just moved here which makes me an easy target if he’s a serial killer. “No- what I mean is that I’ve lived here for a while but I usually cook, so I’m afraid I haven’t explored the food here. I only get takeout from the restaurant behind the supermarket nearby.”
Grey eyes blink at you, the gaze attentive. The corners of his lips are still turned upwards, and his lips slowly part to allow him to speak. Everything seems more detailed. You can’t wait to shrug him off.
“If I may, I’d love to explore the food here with you.”
Fuck. Did I just get asked out? No no. Be realistic. He just needs someone to cling to in this new environment or he’s a serial killer trying to make you lower your guard. You sigh. Whichever it is, you refuse his offer regardless. “I’m sorry, Chrollo.” The fall of his smile is instant. It’s almost creepy. “I don’t plan on eating out too much. I enjoy cooking, so I’d like to stick to cooking as much as I can.” Seriously. What is it with men and taking you out to eat? “Thank you for the offer though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to get ho-”
“I don’t mind cooking together as well.”
“...” What? There’s no way he just said that to you.
“If you prefer cooking, I have no issues with cooking together.” He’s still looking at you, expectantly this time, and you feel like the ground beneath your feet is crumbling away. Why can’t men take a hint?
“Ah, I really should get home soon. Isasmo must be waiting for me. I promised him I’d be home early.”
“Isasmo?”
“Mhm.” You’re shaking your head now. The presence of a man awaiting your return or curious about your whereabouts always works. “He gets very worried if I don’t get home on time. I don’t want him to worry, so if you’ll excuse me…”
Chrollo chuckles. Closing his eyes, he gently shakes his head. The loss of his gaze is short lived, but when it’s back, it cuts through your being. “Sorry for keeping you. I didn’t know you had someone waiting for you at home.”
Like earlier, your heart starts beating in your ears. How he’s keeping you on edge you have no idea. It’s maddening. “Alright. I’ll be heading home now.”
He smiles. “No ‘see you later’?”
Because I don’t want to see you later! “Goodbye!” With that, you dash past him and quickly enter the comfort of your apartment building without looking back. Honestly, you should start coming home at different times. Just to throw him off in case he swings by again.
-
Today, you discovered that your other coworkers are ‘talking’. Due to your sad lack of friends, you have no way of getting in on what’s going on, so you’ve resorted to hanging around corners whenever you hear someone talking or walking around with headphones on so that people think you can’t hear them.
Oh you can definitely hear them.
After a few days of gathering information you have learnt that the coworker who has still not given up on his pursuit of taking you out for lunch is acting a bit weird. Honestly, you called it way back. The day his engagement broke, he started acting differently.
You know because you can see with your own eyes at a glance instead of having to rely on long term observation. It also doesn’t help that ‘it’ has become slightly darker. It’s no way as dark as Chrollo’s, but it is noticeable enough to be discernible.
Speaking of Chrollo, why is he at the pier? No, scratch that. Why is he looking at you?
Quickly, as to not make it seem suspicious, you grab your phone from your pocket, press it to your ear, and start acting like you just accepted a call. With that legendary tactic that got you out of countless social interactions in university, you turn on your heel and start walking in the opposite direction.
When confirmed that he isn’t following after you and is nowhere to be seen, you pocket the device and continue on your merry way. The wind is chilly, the moon is hiding bashfully behind a cloud, and a tub of ice cream has been picked up.
Goods in hand, you arrive at your apartment. It doesn’t surprise you that midnight comes quickly. It is only after the clock shows 12: 30 am that you release the unhealthy snack for the night from the freezer and sit in the extremely poorly lit bedroom and stare at your laptop screen.
This time, however, you aren’t gaming, only browsing through more than eleven opened tabs (you lost count after eleven) and growing more puzzled by the minute. The incident that may have led to your boss’ death is gaining attention, especially on the conspiracy theory websites. Some say that the entire thing was a result of the mafia’s activities, while some claim that a notorious band of thieves did that to steal everything.
You have no evidence or trails that your boss died while participating in that ‘buy and sell’, whatever that means, but it sure does make you suspicious because you recently found out one thing. His body wasn’t recovered.
The more you think about it the worse it gets. Despite not wanting to, you’ve doom scrolled for so long that you’ve ended up on a five year old conspiracy theory post claiming that a group called ‘The Phantom Troupe’ goes around the world stealing stuff. The comments are mostly people confirming it, some even claiming to be hunters and saying that it’s true and common knowledge among hunters.
If they’re that dangerous and destructive, why doesn’t the Hunter’s Association take action? It’s all just a bluff or an exaggeration.
Lights all off, you get up to place your laptop onto your desk, but catch sight of something moving in the corner of your eye. It was barely there, something black or dark, but knowing that you left your living room window open, you simply sigh.
It’s completely quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you can hear your own breathing. Setting aside the fact that the awareness forces you to have to manually breathe, you slam the window shut but rest your forehead against the cool glass. Eyes stare down at the empty neighbourhood, and you start wondering how you got here.
It sometimes feels like a dream. Highschool feels like just a few weeks ago, and yet here you are. It’s surreal.
Five minutes of reminiscence are all you allow yourself, hands promptly grabbing the deep green curtains and drawing them just to freeze when you catch sight of something shining right behind you for just one moment. Turning your head around at an unholy speed only gives you neck pain because there’s nothing there.
Curse you conspiracy theorists. You will be extremely mad if you have a nightmare or lose sleep.
-
Your coworker didn't show up today. It almost makes you feel sad because you can get lunch from outside without having to deal with him. Ah, but the food you brought…
Nevermind. You'll eat it at home. Shoving the lunchbox back into your bag, you grab your wallet and head to the elevator. Headphones are on like usual in hopes of catching any stray gossip from around you.
Oh and do you catch a big one. Your coworker isn't replying to any texts or calls. He's ignoring everyone. The guy from accounting said in the elevator that he might be hungover since he has a drinking habit. Honestly, you should try and advance your relationships with these people from simple greetings. They’re better information sources than the news.
Nevertheless, you breathe a sigh of relief, merrily heading outside the building to head to the little hole in the wall restaurant you've been eyeing for a while.
The streets are busy as usual, almost everyone's lunch hours overlapping at this particular moment, so it isn't a surprise that you bump into a few people while trying to make your way. Although… it is a surprise when you bump straight into Chrollo.
Headphones are promptly pulled down to hang around your neck, and you brace yourself to visually deal with the pressing feeling that’s constricting your chest. ‘It’ is there but the comfort of the crowd allows you to deal with it with less effort.
You still don’t know why he’s like that. You don’t know why ‘it’ is like that around him.
“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “we should really stop bumping into each other.”
It’s the middle of the day and he’s dressed like he’s going to a funeral. Long black coat, black hat extending over his forehead, black button down, black dress pants, black-
What the actual hell are those shoes? Is that big yellow thing a nail that was screwed in? What the fu-
“Is something the matter?” Head tilted to meet your downward gaze, Chrollo’s expectantly looking into your eyes. There’s a moment of silence between you both, but you fill it with action as you move to the side to not take up space on the street.
With a very noticeable deep breath, you sigh. “Nothing’s wrong.” Something is wrong. His thing around him is creeping you out and making you uncomfortable. “I’m just a little tired.” Make yourself seem uninterested. You don’t particularly like this guy, remember?
He nods. “I see.” A pause and the dreaded question is voiced. “Do you work somewhere around here?”
“Yes,” you reply simply.
“Is it your lunch break?”
“Yes…” you hesitate.
“Perfect.” Like how your luck with the male human specimen has always been, Chrollo proceeds to utter the most undesirable string of words. “If you haven’t eaten, I would love for you to join me for lunch. I found a restaurant and was heading there just now.”
Despite knowing it’s hard to get out of this, you still try. “Ah, actually, I only came for a walk. I brought food with myself.”
“It won’t go bad,” he negotiates. “Please. Just this once at least. I promise you’ll have fun.”
Chrollo’s voice is light, cheerful when he says that. You are tempted, but still want to go where you were originally heading. Maybe you could sneak to the restaurant you wanted after shaking him off somehow. But before that, just to confirm what he has in mind, you ask him where.
And being the joke that your luck is, it decides to practise its humour right now because he took the name of the restaurant you were heading to. It also doesn’t help that your eyes widened and Chrollo commented on it, saying that he ‘caught you’. Screw luck. Screw having your way. Life is just a horrible comedy show with dad jokes and shitty puns coming one after another.
A while later, you are seated across from a man who has broken the record of most uncomfortable you have ever been. This time, however, ‘it’ isn’t what’s making you uncomfortable. It’s the way he looks at you like he knows something or is trying to know something.
You hate to admit it but after spending more than five minutes in his presence, you’ve gotten used to the suffocating feeling.
Even if you would rather not be desensitised to it.
It’s quiet between you both, Chrollo choosing to observe you shamelessly while you try your utmost best to avoid looking at him or showing that you’ve noticed his blatant gaze. It’s not busy in here, so that doesn’t help either. Phone in your hand, you scroll through social media apps, tapping away countless stories of people out and about.
The silence got comfortable, but he opened his mouth.
“I forgot to ask,” he says, voice low, “what do you work as?”
Your eyes briefly flit up to meet his but return to the screen immediately. “Data analyst.”
“Data analyst? You must be quite intelligent,” he chuckles.
“If crying through eight semesters of school is smart, then I suppose so.”
There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks. “You got through it though. I count that as smart.”
Is he trying to flatter me? “Is that so?” You close the app and open a different one, indifference dripping from your tone. “What about you then? You didn’t say anything about yourself. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.” Fuck. Did I really just say that?
To your surprise, he laughs. The bastard laughs. “I’m afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. I’m not a serial killer. I am, however, a fan of the arts.”
You remove your eyes from your phone screen, looking up at him even with your head tilted downwards. “You don’t look the part.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Those in STEM are all weirdos,” you state. Eyes move back to your phone, and you’re briefly reminded of the awkward lunches and dinners you went through during freshman year when you didn’t have friends. “The arts ones are pretentious. You look sophisticated, more like a theatre kid.”
Forearms now resting on the table, Chrollo leans towards you, an action you do not notice. “I’m quite sure that sophisticated and pretentious are synonyms, and even if they aren’t, they’re similar enough to be.”
You sigh. “‘A pretentious person works at the appearance of things. They want the appearance of substance, while either not understanding or not caring about actual substance. Sophistication, on the other hand, implies an authentic accumulation of knowledge and/or experience, and the ability to apply those things in advanced ways.’”
“...”
“That’s what an internet search says.” You look up, eyes slowly rising to meet his, but are startled when you see him considerably closer than earlier. He’s leaning forward, and out of instinct, you lean backwards. “So,” you continue, albeit nervously, “you’re wrong.”
Unfazed, he chuckles. “That means you think I have ‘authentically accumulated knowledge’. Why, I’m flattered.”
Again, you physically cringe with a crinkled nose at his smile and tone. “I’m only stating my observation. There are no intentions behind it.”
“Still,” Chrollo smiles, “you did think positively of me-”
“Food’s here!” He stops speaking immediately at your interruption, only shaking his head a little when you start eating. There’s not much time left for your break, so you’d rather get done with it and get back as fast as you can.
Not having the luxury of savouring the food to your desire is sad, but you don’t think about it. ‘Next time for sure,’ you tell yourself. The fact that Chrollo didn’t let you pay for your portion just makes you want to get takeout next time. At least you won’t stare at him in horror again.
Even if slowly being desensitised to ‘it’ isn’t a preferable outcome.
-
Good news is that you haven’t seen Chrollo for a little more than a week. Bad news is that you haven’t seen your coworker for a little more than a week.
If you had a jenny for whenever a superior at work disappeared for more than one week, you’d have two jennys. That isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. There’s got to be some kind of haunting going on. First your boss, then him? Another coworker? Another superior?
Sure, it’s been more peaceful without him here, but you don’t want another person to end up missing just to be pronounced dead. Neither is it good for the company’s reputation, nor is it good for the work environment. There’s already been word spreading around that they’ve started looking for his replacement.
Maybe that’s smart. Maybe… because not even the police have found any leads on his whereabouts yet. His entire apartment is just as it was, dirty laundry in the laundry basket, his phone and wallet still on his nightstand, bed not made, food left to cool still on the kitchen counter…
It’s a little eerie if you think about it.
Scratch that, it’s downright creepy. Where could he have gone? They even found half drunk bottles of different alcoholic drinks on his dining table. Did he get drunk and run off somewhere? Where could he have gone? Did he… get killed?
You have no idea of what’s going on. That is why you, being the detective that you are, have your laptop open in front of you at 1 a.m. as you scrounge the internet for any missing persons cases from this town. So far nothing noteworthy is coming up, the most being missing girls but nothing about a grown man disappearing to never be heard back from or seen again.
An hour or two of more searching bears no fruit and an additional hour of trying to sleep is rewardless. With great annoyance, you get up and throw on the biggest coat you own, something dark grey that almost reaches your ankles. Grabbing your keys and phone, you make the most foolish decision to take a walk at what you think is probably four in the morning.
The pier is silent. The only person you saw was a police officer on his bike drinking a hot cup of coffee.
It’s empty too, and cold. Is the nighttime really so serene? Hands are shoved into your pockets and your feet bring you to your destination on their own. It feels like walking on cotton, yet it doesn’t feel bad. It somehow feels soothing.
The empty pier’s cool wind blows through your hair. Enjoying this kind of loneliness is somewhat of a liberating experience. Did your missing coworker seek out something like this before he went missing? Did he want to feel the kiss of the cool late night wind on his cheeks? You lean over to look at the waves below, hair cascading around your face. You are met with the reflection of the starry night sky, and it isn’t long before you pull back.
Fifteen minutes of waddling around are all you allow yourself before pulling yourself back home. The keychains jingle when you turn the key in the keyhole, breathing a sigh of relief when you are finally back inside. Your feet immediately take you to your bedroom, hands grabbing the coat and throwing it to the nearest surface, and you immediately jump under the covers.
Face meeting something pink and smiling, you sigh again. “Goodnight Isasmo.” The pink axolotl’s smile remains and you cuddle the plushie before snuggling into the bed’s warmth. You hope sleep comes easy.
-
Three weeks. It has now been three weeks since your coworker has been missing. He has now been promoted to ‘missing person’ and his face, along with his cinnamon(?) hair, is now on every other newspaper or screen. It has also been three weeks since you last saw Chrollo, but you aren’t bothered by that. It’s actually a good sign. Never seeing him again is a favourable outcome.
Regardless, your coworker’s name is now permanently etched into your memory. Raaz Olen. That's his name. He has no direct family left, parents having passed away around a decade ago, and the only sibling alive is an older sister who wants nothing to do with him. It's a sad background if you think about it.
You sigh, turning off the computer screen before rubbing your eyes. Life has been uneventful these days. The most exciting thing you recently did was video chat with your old friends. Your best friend, the one who is about to replace your position in her life, suggested downloading a dating app because according to her you need some ‘action’. Were the eight semesters of action not enough? What’s so wrong with peace?
Yet in a moment of weakness, you caved into the idea and committed the act. A cropped group photo to show your arm awkwardly cropped out was uploaded and now there have been quite a few messages and matches. This unfortunate experience has only further proved why you say you have bad luck with the male human specimen. Their first move is to ask about your past relationships, and being salty over their shamelessness, you recount in detail just how agonising it was to be in love with what only hurt you back, to pine after what only reduced you to tears.
You deliberately left out the part that the object of your desire was your degree. At the very least, their uninterested replies were entertaining. Ah, such laughable insecurity. The app will go when you’ve had your fun. Until then, you suppose you’ll use it as a last ditch resort for entertainment.
If you do end up scoring a free dinner… well, no. You would rather not risk a date with a serial killer or worse, someone who wants a second date. The chances are slim, but never zero.
Another notification from the app dings, and you briefly check your phone to see a notification from someone who matched with you. There’s a “Hey! You’re very pretty,” as his message, and you almost scoff at the repetition. The amount of times you have been called ‘pretty’ by strangers on this app is laughable. Did they fall short of words? Maybe that’s just the standard compliment in the world of men.
You end up placing your phone face down, ignoring any following dings, and get back to work. There is only one hour left until you get to go home, and you would prefer not to leave this task for tomorrow to complete.
-
An old lady you see everyday on the train on your way back passed away. Despite having only exchanged greetings with her a few times and carried her bags for her at least a dozen times, you felt oddly sad when you heard of her death. Yes, you only knew her name and that her kids, her three sons, never called after moving away, but you felt like something had been taken when you heard.
Not something big but something small. Something you would not be bothered with by being gone but something you would definitely notice and feel the absence of. You took a day off to attend her funeral since it was hosted by the old age home she was living in, yet you ended up taking a day off after that as well.
Three boys, three men, lost a mother that day and none bothered to show up.
-
“Okay mama. I’ll pick you guys up from the airport. No, I don’t own a car. We’ll get a cab- it’s perfectly safe here! You’re not going to get mugged on the way from the airport, relax!”
More fretting comes from the other side, and you simply continue stirring the soup. The worries aren’t what annoys you. It’s the panic.
After around ten more minutes of reassurance, the call is disconnected and your soup is ready. It’s been a month since Raaz went missing, yet you cannot say you have moved on. It bothers you that a man like him can just vanish. Also, seeing his replacement walk around the office simply makes it worse. You prefer a person who would make you uncomfortable with interactions because of how ‘it’ seems to be rather than a person whose eyes wander where they aren’t supposed to.
Alas, on this fine Friday evening, soup has been cooked and a plan for your parents to visit you at the end of the year has been made. Your father agreed to use his annual leave to come visit you, and the only thing left is for the tickets to be purchased. If they like it here, you could convince them to move here! Maybe even look into your father working at the same place as you.
All is going according to plan! Now what to do about the guy who keeps pestering you to meet up…
You switch apps on your phone to see that he’s sent another few messages, mainly asking if you’re free this weekend. If you consider the sleep you need to catch up on and the show you want to binge, then you have no free time. Besides that, you really don’t feel like going out on a date. Should you just uninstall the app? Messing with the people you matched with has gotten tiresome. Perhaps you should.
Thus, with a few taps to your screen, your account on the application is deleted and the application itself is uninstalled. Honestly, you consider that a job well done. That calls for a reward; the reward being a coupon that can be redeemed anytime which grants you permission to do one stupid thing.
You know you would do the stupid thing regardless, but having a sort of system like that makes you feel less guilty when facing the consequences.
-
Being pulled into an alleyway with a hand firmly planted onto your mouth is not what you ever could have expected to happen to you on this Monday afternoon. Maybe your condemnation for toying with all those men on the dating app has caught up or maybe it’s one of those men here to force you to accept his advances.
Either way, you did not expect to start crying first thing when in a situation like this.
A hand strokes your arm, attempting to soothe you, as the other remains over your mouth. You can feel your assailant’s body heat and his breath over your ear when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Be quiet and it’ll be painless for both of us,” he says.
You furiously nod, sensing the threat, and he immediately lets go. Legs promptly spring to run, but the hand grabbing your arm renders your efforts futile. It is when your struggling ends in you falling onto the ground and him twisting your arm behind your back painfully that you relax, repeatedly tapping the dirty ground with your palm to show that you give up.
There are no faces that come to mind when you think of who you could've angered to this point, so the surprise that floods your blood vessels when you see Raaz’s face under the black hoodie makes you almost dizzy. His hair is dirty and unkempt, facial hair clearly not maintained as he was always clean shaved, and there’s a wildness to his eyes. You try your best to not pay attention to how ‘it’ is darker than before. You liken the difference to how dark brown is compared to beige, but you realise that ‘it’ is more menacing than it ever was.
Raaz is clearly unstable, yet you yourself can’t stop shaking from the lingering adrenaline.
“Stay quiet and listen to me,” he orders. “I need a place to hide. [Name], you have to help me. You will help me.”
Hide? What does he need to hide from? You dust off your clothes as you stand, a groan leaving your throat when the soreness in your arm makes itself known. He immediately grabs it again, afraid you’d run, but let’s go when you angrily shrug it off. “What happened to you?” you ask. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“I will be if you don’t help me.”
Taken aback, you try to think over the situation. Raaz, someone who you always thought was or had the potential to be unstable, is here, clearly frazzled and on the run from something or someone, and wants you to help him hide. What does he want? To stay at your apartment? Risk your life for him?
“I-if it’s that bad,” you start, voice already shaking, “I can’t help you.” The betrayal on his face makes ‘it’ stronger, and you freeze, barely able to get your words out. “If you’re not able to hide in such a big city, I-I don’t- I don’t think you’ll be safe anywhere I can keep you.”
Raaz grits his teeth, his hoodie now pulled down to reveal dirty cinnamon hair, and takes a step forward. Out of fear, and to maintain distance, you take one back but panic when you’re unable to lift your feet. One glance down and you see something shiny protruding from the ground wrapped around your ankles. It broke pavement to crawl around your feet and now they’re stuck to the ground.
You gasp when two arms settle on your shoulders firmly. With a shaky breath, you gather the courage to look up into Raaz’s crazed eyes, all colour draining from your face when his hands grab your face instead. Nails dig into your cheeks, harshly tugging it closer to his. When you retaliate by clawing at his wrists, he simply grabs your hair instead.
Tugging the strands, your head is pulled back, neck exposed. You can see him breathing heavily, ‘it’ growing more erratic and frightening. Like all rabbits stuck in a trap, you thrash, attempting to free yourself from his grip, to miraculously free your feet and be able to run into the safety of the public street.
“You-” he pauses, eyes widening. Your hair is immediately let go of, and he whips his head at record speed, looking over his shoulder. The panic is oozing from his countenance, hands shaking and lips trembling. You think you’re looking at a man running away from death just to be caught up with at every corner and turn.
Curses spill from his mouth, and he turns completely. You feel the grip on your feet loosening, and taking the opportunity, you pry your feet out of the grip. Raaz has still turned his back to you, head moving as he searches for something. When he does not react to your escape from your restraints, you run.
A hand barely grabs your hair again, but you are out of the alleyway before his pursuit is successful. Feet hastily take you back to the office building, and the first thing you do is run to the nearest bathroom. No one is inside, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, letting all tears escape from your eyes before you wash your face and fix your appearance. The adrenaline is still in your system, and you’re left not knowing what to do.
How the hell is Raaz still alive? And what is he running from? Why does he have a target on his back?
You do not know him beyond a coworker who was not over his relationship ending. Who knows? Maybe his ex-fiance did what she did because she found something out and didn’t want to risk staying with him.
Either way, you can’t get the look he had on his face out of your mind.
-
Embarrassment is all you can feel when you exit the police station with a ‘call emergency services if you see him again’. Why don’t they understand that you might not be alive to call emergency services if you see him again? Bitterness is in your mouth as you hop on the train to get home. It’s dark now, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared.
You honestly don’t know what you did wrong to have gotten caught up in all that. Regardless, you’re looking over your shoulder as you walk home from the station, adrenaline coursing through you as you make your way through. It’s when you’re home and have checked all the rooms and windows that you breathe a sigh of relief.
Whatever the hell happened, happened. You’ll keep emergency services on speed dial and try your best to dial them if anything happens again.
If only sleep comes easy after all this.
-
It’s been a week since your encounter with Raaz. Today is Tuesday, the previous week’s Monday being the fateful day. You’ve since been bringing lunch from home like before and find it a little funny how Raaz is the one who’s making you bring leftovers again.
Anyway, to the matter at hand. Someone’s been inside your apartment.
You can tell because you left a pencil lead in the gap between the door and door frame of your closed bedroom door. It was still closed when you got home, but the pencil lead was broken and on the floor which is something that could not have happened unless someone opened the door with the lead still in the gap.
You had been doing that ever since the incident with Raaz and today is the day your paranoia proved to have grounds. Now what are you supposed to do? Live with the information that someone has been inside your home?
Isasmo stares at you from under the covers, his dopy black eyes peeking out. You’ve checked the rest of your apartment and other than Isasmo and you, there is no one. Or at least no one you are aware of. Maybe you should look into moving.
Should you inform the police? Maybe you should, but what would you say? “I was paranoid so I put pencil lead in the gap between my door like a psychopath and guess what? It was broken when I got home! I’m being stalked!” They might laugh at you or place you under observation, the latter of which is preferable.
You end up sucking up the courage and going to file a report, a picture of the broken pencil lead on the ground being your only piece of evidence. It’s an uneventful walk, one where you are completely alert and looking over your shoulder as you get to the nearest station. After being ridiculed for being ‘delusional’ and ‘overthinking’, they agree to file a report and ‘look into it’ when threatened to find your dead body in your apartment one day. Seriously, what does a girl have to do to be believed? Die?
You shake your head on the way home as you think over your conversation at the police station. The older officers ridiculed you but thankfully a younger one got them to at least file a report. Though you’ve been told you’ll be contacted if their investigation yields results, you doubt there will be one to begin with. Well, at least the pencil lead was intact when you got home. That is a relief.
-
It’s been a little more than a week since you filed a report at the police station and none of your pencil leads have been broken again. You would have thought the first one to break might’ve been done by something else had you not noticed that you’re almost out of pencil lead. You had counted 7 in the package just this morning and now there are 4…
Who’s messing with you? Do they think it’s funny? What if you’re paranoid? Are you sure you counted properly?
A sigh leaves your lips as you drop backwards onto the bed. Is this really what you have been reduced to? Curse whoever is doing this. The police have not contacted you again, so you went there yourself today and they said they didn’t find anything. As if they actually searched.
It makes you mad, yet you can’t do anything. Since there hasn’t been anything besides the pencil leads in the closed doors’ gaps, you chalk it up to suspicion. Whether you are delusional or the authorities, only time can tell.
-
Work has been slow lately, and you are reminded every single day of how boring your life has become. There has been no new gossip circulating and your attempts at making any new friends have not bore fruit. Your old friends have also started contacting you less as they’re busy in their own lives. Sure, you hardly have time yourself with how your job takes up two thirds of your day but you also don’t have a social life. That’s why you basically have nothing to do besides work and binge watch stuff.
Goodness, are you turning into your father? The temptation to download the dating app again whispers into your ear sometimes, but you fight it. You will only do so when you are seriously looking for someone, not when you are looking for fun.
Bag on your shoulders, you pocket your phone and head to the elevator. Despite the fact that there isn’t much work, it’s dark when you’re done. Maybe you’ve gotten slow, not work.
The elevator doors open and you promptly leave, heading straight for the train station. It's an uneventful journey, and you choose to fill the silence by plugging in your earbuds. You step out of the train station, adjust your bag again, and head for the supermarket. The grocery list on your phone is pulled out, music flowing into your ears as you go about getting groceries.
Now with two plastic bags in hand, you make your way home. If you had restocked milk earlier - and not gotten lazy - you wouldn't have to haul two heavy plastic bags back home. Delivery is an option, but you won't be at home during the day to receive them. If only they offered delivery during the weekend.
Your phone rings, but you don't check who's calling. It's probably your mother, and it would be inconvenient to stop and drop the bags to pull your phone out. With a sigh, you continue walking. However, your trek is cut short when a hand grabs your wrist in a crushing grip, and pulls you closer. The music is still blasting in your ears, and you start sucking in a breath to scream only to stop when the grip turns almost bone breaking.
One look and you see Raaz's face under the black hood. He narrows his eyes at you and pulls you with him, bags still in hand and earbuds still in. When at his desired destination - a random alley like last time - you are pushed in front of him and you almost fall face first. You brace yourself and end up staggering but the bags fall and slide in opposite directions.
“Bad news, [Name].”
You barely hear him, hands reaching to pull out the earbuds and pocket them. Turning on your heel, you face him. He doesn't look any better than last time, only worse. ‘It’ is quieter, but you can sense how erratic it is. It feels like he's hiding how unstable he is only to do a poor job.
“You're going to go down with me,” he smiles. “Since you refused to help me hide, you now have a target on your back too.”
Disbelief contorts your expression into one of disgust. He's bluffing. He has to be. “Stop lying, Raaz. I'm not stupid and I'm not going to help you.”
He laughs, loud and sad. “That's what your mistake was. You never said yes to lunch and then I… then I ended up drinking again because another woman I love didn't want me.” A hand runs through his dirty hair before it slides down his hood. “I drank so much I bumped into the devil I was running from. And then… ah, fuck. I ended up telling him who I was thinking it was just another guy at the bar.”
Raaz looks you in the eye, and you take a step back from the sheer intensity only to find your feet restrained to your ground like during the previous encounter. It baffles you, but before you could question it or let alone panic, he's talking again.
“Now you're going to go down with me unless you help me. I'll let you go. I-I’ll get over you and Liza if you help me. You won't be harmed… probably.” He shrugs at the last part, and you find yourself not believing him at all.
Still, you prod further in hopes of making a false promise and being able to get away. There's no need to reason with him to go to the authorities. If it could've been helped, he would've gone there himself. “And just what,” you ask, “are you asking of me?”
“Money,” he replies instantly. “I burned all my savings trying to run. I need money so I can get a ticket and get the hell out of here.”
“I don't even know what you're talking about. How do you expect me to trust you?”
Your question makes ‘it’ flare up for a second before calming down, and Raaz doesn't miss the way your eyes widened for a minute. “I suspect you can see things. I'm right, aren't I?”
“Answer the questi-”
“Your legs,” he deadpans. A finger raises to point at your feet, and he continues. “I restrained them. Do you know how?”
You gulp, but humour him anyway. “How?”
He smiles. “I can manipulate metal.” A beat of silence passes before he talks. “That's why I'm like this. Someone wants me dead for this and I know he can do better but he's too busy fucking with me to make it quick.” Raaz inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “I don't even know what he wants by dragging it out, but I'm going to make sure he regrets it.”
“You aren't even sure I'll be okay if I help you,” you state.
However, he just smiles at your complaint. “When someone's too busy chasing the big fish, they ignore the little ones.”
“Fine,” you concede. If it’ll get this psycho off your back, you'll give him money. “How much do you need?”
“Half a million jenny,” he says, clarifying when your jaw hangs open, “and I'm being generous. I'm going to have to fly illegally and it's going to take money.”
“I… I don't have much.”
“You're a data analyst, [Name]. You'll get your bonus after two months. Do something, anything.”
You suck in a breath. Maybe you could take some out of your credit card and some as a loan. You really don't want to pay interest, but you'll have to if you want this problem solved. “Okay.” The deal is sealed and you are sent on your merry way with an address typed into your notes app.
You can't believe you just agreed to that.
-
It's dark and quiet. The taxi dropped you off a few blocks away, leaving you to walk to the warehouses that once used to be rented by people for storage. The people running the business sold it off to someone who never bothered to continue it. Now you're here, cold and scared as you stand outside the dilapidated structure.
The garage door opens on its own, Raaz's face peeking from the darkness inside. His eyes light up at the sight of you. “You're here.”
You're ushered inside despite your protests. All you wanted to do was throw the bag of money to his feet and be back on your merry way but you just had to be pulled inside by a freaking metal pole of all things. Now you're here, standing with your feet restrained to the ground as Raaz counts to make sure you brought as much as he asked.
The only problem is, he's now talking on the phone and he just mentioned how he's got ‘both the girl and the cash’. Oh, and now there's something that's restraining your hands and despite how much you wiggle and pry your hands apart, it doesn't budge.
When Raaz glances your way from staring at all the money inside the bag, he just smiles. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this, [Name], but a man's gotta do what he's gotta do.”
Anger is the first thing that makes itself known because you took out a loan with interest for this dunce and he goes ahead to stab you in the back. Maybe you should've told the police about him. Shit. You shouldn't have been so stupid. But it is also the police's fault for never taking you seriously. If they had, you would've actually sought them out a third time.
“What are you doing?” Your voice grows louder, angrier and more desperate. “Let me go! You said you wanted money and you got it so let me go!”
Raaz clicks his tongue, and what he says next makes things clearer. “Don't get me wrong, someone has been after me but if I do as the boss says, he'll get me out of Yorbia safely.” Something fades in his eyes as he continues. “It's not like it's my first time. If I didn't have this side gig, I wouldn't be alive right now. There are too many people after you when you're like this.”
Something hard and solid slithers up your body and covers your mouth, cutting short any words from your mouth. Raaz stands, the light behind him hitting his back to make him look more menacing. “You'll be taken soon. I asked them not to hurt you and sell you immediately. Though cruel, it's a small price to pay for my own protection.”
You can hear an engine rumble outside, and a buzz in his pocket is all he needs to start stepping towards the garage door behind you. He moves while looking at you, hand awkwardly reaching behind him to pull up the garage door as his eyes remain fixed on your body. “Tie her up quickly. It'll wear off if I look away so make it-”
Thump.
Something heavy drops onto the ground and immediately the metal grip on you loosens a little. You can hear footsteps and a kick before the sound of the door closing. It's agonising, being forced to be still and helpless while something happens behind your back that is definitely not in your favour.
More footsteps and a figure in black stalks towards the bag of money only to ignore it entirely and head for the door in the back. You take the opportunity to fight against the restraints, wiggling and trying to move your arms but it's metal and you only end up exhausting yourself. You hear a sigh from the other room and freeze.
When the person is back, you are more confused and helpless when you see Chrollo's face. This time, there is nothing covering his forehead and you see something black covered by his bangs. It's when he steps closer that you make it out to be a tattoo of some kind.
“Your involvement was a surprise, but a welcome one,” he says. ‘It’ is calm and his voice is even calmer. He steps even closer, now standing just two steps away. “I had thought you were working with him, so imagine my surprise when it turns out he was using you. Or trying to, at least.”
You make a face but the metal wrapped around your mouth stops you from being able to convey it properly. Chrollo smiles at the display, the corners of his lips curling upwards out of amusement. “Do you need help?” His question only makes you grimace. “I'll free you if you tell me about your ability.”
You have no idea what the hell he's talking about, but you nod anyway, desperate to have the rigid metal wrapped around you gone. Chrollo steps forward and you expect him to reveal a chainsaw or some other tool, so it's perfectly reasonable when you shriek as his hand grabs the metal and literally rips it away from your body. As he pries away the last of it, you end up gaping at him, mouth wide open as you stare at him in disbelief.
Hands hanging by your sides, your features contort into one of fear as soon as he stands. Chrollo is now looking you in the eye expectantly and you have no idea what to answer him. Thus, you take a deep breath, confidence coming from the fact that ‘it’ is still calm and not threatening at all. Your lips part to speak and you briefly catch a hint of satisfaction is his grey eyes. “Do you… come here often?”
Chrollo blinks, once then twice. He raises a brow. “Pardon me?”
“You know… do you hang out here frequently?”
Confusion grows on his face, but he quickly recovers. “No. I don't.” A few moments of silence pass and he speaks up with a sigh. “You're completely clueless about the circumstances, aren't you?”
Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and you look down at your shoes as you nod. Nervousness makes you bite your lip. You were about to be who-knows-what by Raaz before Chrollo strolled in casually. Speaking of, where's Raaz? You turn around, eyes falling onto Raaz lying on the floor and a hat discarded next to him. A realisation hits you, a hand on your shoulder disturbing your thoughts.
“What do you make of this situation, [Name]? What do you think is going on?”
You carefully eye him. Not sensing a threat, you voice your thoughts. “Raaz… was involved in illegal activities. It's why he disappeared. He was running from someone too and the people he worked for promised that he'd be safe as long as he did what they asked.”
Chrollo hums. “And what did they ask of him?”
“A woman to sell off…?”
“You sound unsure,” he smiles. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your wrist, thumb massaging the skin. “He was involved in human trafficking,” Chrollo reveals. “His fiancé didn't cheat on him. She was trafficked.”
Your eyes widen in surprise, more pieces of the puzzle coming out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the most surprising thing is how Chrollo is here. The hand circled around your wrist is wiggled out of, and the question on your mind is voiced. “How are you here?”
Chrollo tilts his head at you. “I could ask you the same.” When you raise a brow at him, he chuckles. “I'm here for your coworker over there. He told you about someone who was after him. That would be me. However, I'm not after his life.”
You raise your brow higher, prompting Chrollo to continue. “You’re a Nen user, right?” When you ask him what he's talking about, he grows more confused. “You're a Nen user without the awareness of being one? Interesting.”
A hand finds its way to his chin, but Chrollo is lost in thought for only a few moments. “What do you suppose I should do with your coworker? He used to ask you out, correct?”
“Yes? Does that matter?”
“Perhaps,” he smiles.
You gulp, sensing a kind of game he's playing with you. “Don't hurt him. Hand him over to the police. They'll… they'll know what to do with him.” Your request is heard, but Chrollo does not seem to care for it because he clicks his tongue and pushes his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat.
Crouching down in front of Raaz, he grabs his hand and you look away. A moment later, you look again and Raaz's palm is flat against the cover of a book in Chrollo's hand. Where the hell that book came from, you have no idea.
“Now that that's done,” he says, now moving to stand, “what to do with you…”
Your blood runs cold at the question. If this situation is anything to go by, Chrollo is not any better than Raaz. In fact, he may be infinitely worse. Regardless, you still do not feel any kind of threat from him, ‘it’ being considerably less suffocating than it was the last time you had met him. Perhaps it is the lingering adrenaline that makes it seem so, but you are not afraid of him at the moment. Thus, being the person that you are, you try at making him spare you.
“Maybe,” you start, “you could, you know, let me go home. I'm not going to say or do anything. I couldn't be bothered about this. I'll take the jenny I was scammed out of and go home. Or you could keep the money if you want! As long as I get to go back home.”
Your negotiation attempt makes Chrollo think. He spends a few moments pondering over the situation, eyes still focused on you. When he parts his lips to speak, you have already prepared yourself to not be let go. “I'll let you go if you agree to meet me tomorrow evening. I suppose I can think over what to do with you in the meantime,” Chrollo says.
The offer makes you take a step back. “Really? You won't scam me like Raaz did?”
“I can make a promise if it eases your mind.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. He's smiling at you teasingly and you in no way are feeling any sense of danger from him. Begrudgingly, you agree. “Fine. Where should I meet you?”
“Give me your number. I'll send you the location.”
You make a face at the request, but surrender when he pesters you with promises of no ill will. An hour later, you are at your apartment, the bag of jenny still with you as you start planning to immediately pay off the loan you took out.
-
It is 7 pm. You stand somewhere to the side where Chrollo had asked you to come, the man in question nowhere to be seen. He asked you to come around 7 pm and you ended up getting here at 6:36 pm. It’s been 24 minutes since you’ve been standing here in wait.
Though you’ve been waiting alone with your thoughts for so long, the dread starts settling in now. It does not help that you can feel a familiar suffocating aura before you turn to look at its source casually strolling up to you on the busy street. It also does not help that your alarm had been explicitly painted on your face as soon as he was within a 6 feet radius.
“I was expecting you to not come,” he says. “This is certainly a surprise.” Chrollo smiles at you again, the curve of his lips somehow more menacing than the darkness around him. There’s a hat covering his forehead like before, you note. It seems that he certainly wants to hide the tattoo in public.
“I suppose my life is on the line. I would rather not walk around with another target on my back. You don’t seem like someone I would want after me, if Raaz’s condition was anything to go by.”
“An excellent deduction. I’m not someone you would want coming after you, at least not for your life or ability.” You gulp his clarification, proceeding to ask what he concluded for the course of action he must take. Chrollo chooses to let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the bustle on the busy street before replying, “I’ll tell you in due time. First…”
That is how almost half an hour later you are sitting at a restaurant, Chrollo across you, and a menu in front of you. What the hell is going on, you have no idea. You came here to find out if you’re going to be kidnapped or killed. Not to be taken out for dinner. When asked what you’d like to have, you insist that you aren’t hungry, something that Chrollo makes it a point to ignore as he ends up ordering for you. It is even more disorienting when it ends up being something you’ve had multiple times for lunch during the workdays.
“So,” you start, nervousness seemingly dripping from your countenance, “I suppose the final verdict will be given for dessert?” When Chrollogives no answer, you continue. “At least give me a hint. Death or imprisonment?”
He blinks at you. “It’s a surprise.” With that simple statement, he is back to observing you, one hand on the table and tracing the rim of the glass tumblr in front of him. “I hope Isasmo isn’t worried about your circumstances.”
Ah shit, he remembers. “Nope. He doesn’t know.”
“You hid everything? I suppose that’s reasonable. An axolotl wouldn’t be able to help in any way.”
Your eyes widen, heartbeat picking up. “You… how do you know?”
Chrollo’s response is simple, but it isn’t any less chilling. “You talk to him everyday.” He’s still watching you, eyes crinkling at the corners from his amused smile. It’s maddening having to be on the receiving end of this. When you do not grace him with a response, Chrollo does not say anything further as well.
The silence is excruciatingly painful. Chrollo's gaze, however, is more uncomfortable than being called out in class for an answer and not knowing it. Thus, a bright idea pops into your mind, a legendary question that easily makes any conversation better. “So,” you start, bracing yourself, “you like jazz?”
The only reaction you get is speechlessness before Chrollo clears his throat. “Not particularly. You?”
You shake your head. “Not my style.”
Resting your face in your palm, you look away, eyes anywhere but him. The surroundings seem more interesting, the two couples and a few lone people in the background having more to tell than the person you thought was going to end up hurting you. Well, it’s not your fault you got caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on.
“What,” Chrollo says, perking you up, “was your relationship with Raaz?” He’s tracing the rim of the glass again, something that bothers you because of the discrepancy between the action and his expression. Regardless, you answer truthfully. There is no guarantee he already knows and is simply testing your truthfulness.
“He was my coworker. He used to ask me out for lunch numerous times. That’s all.”
“And did you go to lunch with him?”
You shake your head. “No.”
Chrollo simply makes a thinking face before he’s back to normal again, hands sliding underneath the table. Silence once again hangs in the air, the tension thick enough to be cut through with a knife. You are completely unaware of Chrollo’s aims and motives, yet he knows you more than you could have ever thought.
Which reminds you…
“Chrollo.” He perks up at the call of his name instantly. You continue. “Someone was most definitely coming into my apartment during my absence. Was that you?”
The smile he gave you told you everything. A groan comes from your throat, the annoyance over being paranoid and doubting yourself while being sure that something was amiss catching up. “And just why were you breaking and entering?”
He clicks his tongue. “I thought you were working with Raaz.”
“Yet when you didn’t find anything the first time, you still persisted.”
“New evidence can pop up anytime,” he shrugs.
How someone can be so nonchalant over something like this, you have no idea. Sure, you were worried at first but annoyed later on, but still!
“So have you decided what to do with me?”
After a moment of contemplation, you are given a smile and a promise to be informed of your inevitable outcome after dinner. Yet after dinner you are taken to a nearby pier with no sign of the final verdict being given anytime soon. Now settled on a bench next to Chrollo, the little distance between you both resulting from your death glares whenever he slid close to you, you decide to enjoy the cool breeze before asking him again.
And you do. You ask him again what he’s decided to do with you, and all you are given before the knowledge of your inevitable end is a smile and a tilted head. This is when you notice how long Chrollo’s hair is.
“I was considering an… ‘arrangement’,” he says. The words cause your heart to start beating faster. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head or your family if you agree.”
He pauses, gauging your reaction, and you start praying he does not turn you into some kind of personal slave. “If,” he continues, making you start fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness, “you agree, you’ll live comfortably without a care in the world.” Another pause and the anticipation grows. The sound of chatter in the background is completely mute and the wind has already stopped blowing.
“What I’m proposing is… well, you allow me to court you. I will take the necessary steps, and you simply have to accept.”
The minute Chrollo utters those words, you freeze. A reply is on the tip of your tongue, and you know it is not a wise idea yet you open your mouth anyway. “If you wanted to ask me out so badly, you could’ve just walked up to me and asked instead of threatening to kill me or my family.”
All you receive in response is a shrug before he formulates a reply. “Would you have said yes if I asked under normal circumstances?”
“No.”
“Then my point has been proven.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should test the waters. “And what if I said no? What then?”
Chrollo leans back on the backrest, now more comfortable before he continues his negotiation with you. “Was Raaz’s predicament not enough of an example?” The wind blows again, and he leans forward, eyes on the water. “Not that I would prefer that, but you understand what I’m referring to.”
And you do understand what he’s referring to. You understand because you saw what became of Raaz. Nevertheless, you need more information to negotiate. Perhaps you might be able to find a way out during his ‘courting’. “Are you a homeowner,” you ask. “And do you live in the house you own?”
Chrollo looks at you from the periphery of his vision, suspicion making him more alert. “No, but I can purchase a home anytime.”
“Alright,” you nod. “And do you have a stable income?”
“As long as the world has treasure and resources, I will.”
“I see.” You pause, thinking of more questions to ask. “What about family? How much family do you have? Any siblings?”
“None,” he replies, “Any other questions?” He’s looking at you directly now. “Or would you like to leave some things to be discovered later on?”
You purse your lips at the comment. So he has money and no family. Sounds mighty suspicious or concerning. Depends how you look at it. You’re looking at it both ways. Silence settles once again as you think over what to say next. Chrollo seems content to leave you with your thoughts, as he doesn’t make any move to break the silence.
But when the silence is broken, it is broken by your capitulation. Chrollo is pleased as expected, yet there is no sign of relief or contentment on your end. Perhaps you could purposely make the relationship fail, and then he might let you go. At the very least, this arrangement is better than having your parents and yourself hunted down by a criminal.
-
It has been 3 entire weeks since you accepted Chrollo’s conditions. Your job is going fine, boring as usual, and seeing Raaz’s replacement still reminds you of the feeling of cold metal restraining you and keeping you in place.
It’s maddening, having to relive that feeling everyday. However, what’s worse is seeing Chrollo inside your apartment numerous times a week, mostly when you come home from work. He hasn’t made a move to stay the night yet, always excusing himself to ‘work’ or saying something along the lines of you not being ready for that step. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for it, but you don’t like being indirectly told that he pulls the strings and holds the power.
That’s why you’re here. Everything in the past several weeks has led to this and the tension and stress of those weeks has boiled down to reveal someone very tired and just a little spiteful. You knew he was someone to stay away from, and you did stay away from him. Or tried to at least.
“You said you wanted to speak to me about something?”
The devil has voiced your intentions, and you are now obliged to jump straight to the point. Having just got off work, you’re tired and a bit annoyed due to the lack of proper sleep. Despite that, you suck in a breath, continue strolling with him in the park, and give your response.
“We should break up,” you say, a sense of finality in your words that conveys your message that you shan’t be swayed in your decision. “Or stop this, considering this isn’t a normal relationship.” You had refused to hold his hand today, saying you want to keep them shoved into your pockets since they’re cold. They are currently sweating. “I don’t love you, and I don’t feel any bit comfortable. Continuing this would just make the both of us miserable.”
The break up dialogue sounded better in the TV shows you’ve watched, but you let it slide and continue. “Let’s just… see other people, okay? You’re probably just lonely. You said you have no family, and I can’t be the replacement. I don’t feel it working. I don’t feel loved and I sure as hell can’t love back.”
There is silence before Chrollo stops in front of you. He turns, facing you, and you are suddenly reminded of the children playing nearby and your bag being on his shoulders. “Is it because you remember the circumstances? If that’s the case, I can make you forget them.”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” You flex your sweating palms inside your pockets, nervousness skyrocketing. “I just… it’s not working Chrollo.” There is desperation in your voice now. “You may find this arrangement fulfilling, but it’s not the case for me. I don’t even know what you do for a living! I don’t know your last name and-” You cut yourself off. You’ve gone off-topic.
“What I’m saying is,” you continue, “I’m certain this isn’t working out. We should go our separate ways.”
Silence once again settles, but it is soon broken by the sound of footsteps. With your head down, you see Chrollo’s shoes when he walks up to you. A hand on your chin raises your head to meet his eyes, and you gulp out of nervousness when his lips part to speak. “The condition was that I would court you and you would accept. There was no room for rejection to begin with.”
He pauses, looking for any reaction on your face. When he fails, he continues. “If you don’t feel loved, you should communicate instead of breaking up. A relationship thrives when both parties communicate, right?”
You brush off his hold, lips twisting in slight disgust. “You aren’t getting my point-”
“Explain it to me then.”
“I just did.”
“Your argument lacks claim and reason. It isn’t even an argument to begin with.”
A frustrated groan and you bring your hands out of your pockets. With a few slaps to your cheeks, you try again. “I don’t like you and I can’t stand you. If this wasn’t something that came as a result of what happened to Raaz and I met you as a stranger and ‘it’ wasn’t as creepy as it was, I might’ve given you the time of day but none of it happened!” Chrollo looks at you like you’ve grown two heads during your outburst, but you do not care. “Chrollo, you creep me out and I don’t like you. I can’t accept you and fall in love with you. What more do you not understand?”
He blinks, once then twice, before grabbing your shoulders. The action makes you freeze, the suffocating feeling from ‘it’ growing and becoming more visible and menacing now prevailing. “Elaborate on ‘it’.” The grip on your shoulders slides down to your arms but you do not feel any less threatened. Maybe that’s why he never stayed the night. You’re too frightened at times.
“There’s… something around you.” Revealing this feels wrong, but you know you have no choice now. “It’s dark, the darkest I’ve seen yet on any person. It’s scary and overwhelming and I don’t like it. Sometimes it’s calm and tolerable and sometimes it’s huge. It doesn’t have anything to do with emotions, or that’s what I think.”
Chrollo hums, letting you go. ‘It’ does not simmer down until a few more minutes pass, and he only speaks after it does. “It’s your Nen ability. You cannot see Nen, but your ability is an exception.”
“What do you mean?”
Chrollo glances around before stepping closer. He points to his right palm with his eyes and in a moment, a book suddenly just appears in his hold. Any questions on your end are silenced with the excuse of being in a public space. The only answer you get that evening is that the book is Chrollo’s ability.
Any further probing is told off immediately. Chrollo does not wish to say anything further, changing the topic promptly and continuing to converse like you did not just attempt to break up with him. The lingering fear from his threats slowly starts seeping in, and you once again grow bewildered over how your circumstances have changed.
-
You're in the kitchen when Chrollo says you need to pack your bags. He had gotten up from the living room sofa and strolled into the kitchen when he broke the news. Now, as he stands in front of you, your back to the counter, and recounts the essentials you need to pack, you blankly nod. Everything is a blur. You cannot control your actions, only watch them like a third party.
He turns his back to you now, sighing at your silence, but before he can take a step forward, you plunge a knife into his back. The silence is deafening, but when you pull out the blade to see your handiwork, you are greeted with only a handle.
The blade sits in Chrollo's palm, and he's looking directly at you.
All your muscles are frozen, and you cannot discern whether the ringing in your ears is from the adrenaline or from being stared down. Minutes pass this way, and it is only when you throw the handle somewhere to the side that it subsides.
“Pack the essentials,” Chrollo says, his voice cutting through the silence. You’re now noticing the TV is turned off. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”
You just noticed Chrollo’s palm is unscathed. How odd.
#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo#chrollo x reader#chrollo lucifer x reader#yandere hunter x hunter
470 notes
·
View notes
Text
kinktober #o17 | glory
KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows
glory (praise kink) || chan x fem!reader
summary: you and chan met as volunteers for the local cabaret theatre, working as stagehands, but when it blossoms into something more, and the temperatures drop below freezing, chan figures out a way to warm you up, and fast...
warnings: praise kink, and all that entails, plot heavy, fluffy, lots and lots of praise, 'daddy' petnames, non-idol AU
word count: 4k
masterlist - click here
The first time he let it slip, you two were still just friends.
You both volunteered as stagehands at the downtown cabaret theater, and you had been sent out to purchase some last-minute supplies. Your coat was dripping wet over your arm from running through the rain, a shopping basket hooked in the crook of your opposite elbow, and you held the phone to your ear, spinning around to decipher the location of the checkout.
"Did you get the safety pins?" Chan's voice came through the phone.
You nodded, even though Chan couldn't see you. "Yeah."
"And-"
"I also got the glue gun sticks, an extra pack of AA batteries, and a small can of black acrylic paint," you rattled off.
"Good girl," Chan responded, genuinely impressed.
At the time, he had no idea that his words had a much different impact on you than he could have ever imagined. The idea of him praising you under very different circumstances had ignited a fire within you, one you couldn't ignore.
The season progressed and Chan worked up the courage to ask you out for drinks and now you two are barely two months into a very new relationship.
Still working together, now as hired staff seasonally, at the cabaret theatre, you two are now working together on helping out with the production of A Christmas Carol. It’s two months until showtime, so you’re in the thick of things, managing a team of stage designers.
Chan is managing the costume department and overseeing music direction. He has a brief gap between meetings, so he decides to surprise you by grabbing your favorite drink and muffin from the local coffee shop. After leaving a generous tip in the paper cup at the front of the register, he heads back to the theater through the brisk winter cold.
Chan enters the theater's workshop, finding you in your office. He closes the door behind him, greets you with a kiss and your drink, and then takes off his coat. As he hangs it on the nearby coat rack, you take a sip of the drink, savoring the warm, spicy flavors of your favorite spiced winter beverage. Opening the small, white paper bag, you take out your favorite muffin. "I needed this so badly. I was late this morning and couldn't grab breakfast."
"Why didn't you call? You know I could've picked you up," Chan says, sitting on the edge of your desk as you ease into your chair. You blow on your drink, preparing it for a sip. "Your car's been in the shop for weeks now. Any word on what's going on with it?"
You pause for a moment, taking a sip of your drink as you ponder how to address the issue. You've been avoiding Chan's questions about your mode of transportation since receiving the bad news. You're hesitant to reveal that you don't have everything under control, fearing it might push Chan away. After swallowing, you gather your thoughts and finally speak up.
"It's gonna be a while," you say, your voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty.
At this point, Chan has confirmed his suspicion that you're intentionally keeping this information from him. He nods, taking in your response, and glances at his watch. Fiddling with one of its links, he contemplates whether you've been together long enough for him to press you about these matters. He doesn't want to start an argument or intrude on your privacy, but he's genuinely concerned, especially with the weather getting colder and the distance you live from the theatre.
"That... doesn't sound good," Chan finally says, after you've taken another sip, looking back at you. You can feel the hesitation in his words and sense that he's holding something back. Your fingers nervously tap against your cup in an unknown rhythm that's stuck in your head.
"Yeah, the engine, it's kind of... shot," you say, tapping the cup at a higher tempo. You find the lid of your cup more interesting than Chan's attempt to hide his shock. He knows he's not great at concealing his emotions, and he clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by his watch.
"Wow, that's... I'm sorry to hear that. Engine troubles can be expensive. You know if you need any help at all—"
"I'm just getting another car. I've been looking, but I haven't had the time yet, especially with the production coming up, so I've been taking the trains. I'm okay, though, Chan, really," you reassure him. Setting your cup down, you interlock your fingers, resting your chin on them, and offer him a disarming smile.
"Since you've had time to come visit me, I'm guessing you're ahead of schedule?" you inquire, relieved when you see his focus shift, steering the conversation in a different direction.
For now, you've evaded his questions again.
"Like a well-oiled machine. In fact, there's a little bit left over in the budget to get the fog machine fixed."
"Chan!" you laugh, "How did you manage that?"
"A few people owed me a few favors. I know how much you wanted to give those Ghost of Christmas Future scenes more ambiance." Chan embraces you, and you eagerly rush into his open arms, hugging him tightly, the scent of his shampoo and cologne filling your senses. When you let go, he slowly turns you around in his embrace, his arms encircling your body, your back against his chest.
"Thank you for this. Oh, Hailey will be so excited to hear this, and Thomas, we'll have to space out the set for Act Three, but that's no problem. I—" You stop yourself, your hand on your forehead as you catch yourself from rambling again. Chan loves seeing you excited like this, so he never stops you during your enthusiastic outbursts. You turn around, your arms resting on his shoulders, and you kiss him, expressing your gratitude with a hundred silent thank-yous.
Chan finds the courage to speak out, his hands gently resting along your waist. "Please let me give you a ride, at least to and from here. You live outside the city, and I'd feel better knowing you're safe in this cold." He anticipates a rebuttal and adds, "Just for the cabaret. Whatever else you do is your business, but if you did need me for other rides, I'd be up for it—just needed to get that out there," nodding affirmatively to you and himself.
You decide to accept his offer this time. You had guessed wrong; it had never left his mind the entire time.
"Fine," you roll your eyes with a small smirk, "I just know you live in the city, and that's out of your way."
"It's not, honest," Chan stands up and leans forward, kissing your forehead. "You're really special to me." With a smile, he heads out and adds, "I'll meet you in the lobby after rehearsal."
"You're really special to me..."
Those words reverberate in your mind for the next four hours of work. They're louder than the hammering of nails into wooden boards, louder than saws cutting through plywood, and even louder than the timpanis in the orchestra pit.
As you work, your head down while distressing the paint on the side of a fake building, you can hear Chan stopping and starting the musicians, going over pieces meticulously. It's hard not to lock eyes with him when he glances over at you occasionally.
Unbeknownst to you, Chan is entranced by the way you bring a vision to life, ingeniously assembling pieces that leave him baffled. He observes you walking among other stagehands, adeptly adjusting a streetlamp, your gloved hands confidently resting on your hips, toolbelt hanging down. You point, shake your head, and oversee adjustments, stepping back and tilting your head, scrutinizing it from various angles before granting it a thumbs-up.
Every so often, you cast an inconspicuous glance over your shoulder, but Chan has already shifted his focus long enough to deceive you into thinking he wasn't watching. He splits his attention between you and the piano, directing the musicians, a sight he relishes.
At one point, a designer stands beside the piano with a partially costumed actor, waiting for the right moment to approach Chan. The designer holds up a piece of velvet red fabric against the navy blue costume.
"Was thinking maybe this material?" the stylist asks.
"Nah, not really, the blue is better against the gold buttons," Chan nods, providing his expert opinion.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Thomas' voice teases, breaking your focus and startling you from your reverie.
"Oldest one in the book. And corniest," you quip back.
"Don't do it, boo. I'd be distracted if Chan were mine too," Thomas remarks, and you both sneak another glance in Chan's direction. "He is a delicious piece of sweet potato pie, ain't he?"
You nudge Thomas playfully, and both of you head backstage.
As the day concludes, everyone gathers around for announcements and updates from the director. Afterward, people begin to disperse. You're embraced by hugs from Thomas and other crew members who've become like family. The holiday break is upon you, and some are leaving town to enjoy their vacation. The lobby teems with people, and amid the crowd, you spot Chan. You hear him chatting with others, and as he finishes, his expression brightens as he spots you.
You’re really special to me…
You give Chan a warm hug. It's cozy inside, a welcome refuge from the cold winter winds outside.
"Ready?" he asks with a grin.
You nod, and together, you make your way to the exit. The bitter cold greets you as you step outside, and the wind feels like needles on your exposed cheeks. You tug your scarf up around your nose to protect yourself from the icy gusts. Chan holds you even closer as you both step out into the open, and he opens the passenger door of his nearby parked car.
The car's interior offers immediate warmth, and you welcome it with relief. Chan yawns as the silence settles in around you. He had a busy but good day, and now he's just as eager to hear about yours, especially after getting lost in watching you do your thing.
"Are you sure you wanna do this? Like, drive me all the way home?" you ask, your voice tinged with doubt.
"Yes, I want to drive you all the way home," Chan says with a chuckle. He starts the car, shifting it into reverse to back out of the parking space. "And then I want to walk you all the way to your door, and then I want to kiss you, like we're a couple of teenagers from the fifties."
You laugh at his sweet sentiment.
"I'm serious! You make this relationship thing feel like it's worth something, like it's something I can do... forever," Chan says. He starts to feel a little self-conscious about gushing and quickly dials it back. "You're just... really special to me."
There it is again.
"Chan," you begin, and there's a moment of hesitation.
"Yeah?" Chan's gaze remains fixed on the road, but he's eager to hear your words.
"I love you," you say, surprising both yourself and him with the sudden confession.
Each quiet second Chan spends frozen on the road ahead makes you want to backpedal. It’s too soon. Are you dumb? He’s gonna think you’re crazy. It’s not even three months yet.
“I love you too.” He says, and it comes out like his own kind of word vomit, at the tail end of his ruminating thoughts of whether or not you actually meant your statement. Then he guilts himself for doubting the expression of your feelings.
Chan would just like to get out of his own head for thirty seconds.
"Ok, now that that's settled," you say, your humor helping to break the tension, and you settle into your seat with a sigh. "I'm sorry I get so weird about you helping me sometimes. I just feel like you have your shit together, and I'm still trying to figure it all out. I know you didn't sign up to get a girlfriend with a bunch of problems—baggage."
Chan snorts, a mixture of amusement and relief. He's glad to hear that this is what's been on your mind, that you've been carrying a self-imposed burden. He appreciates the vulnerability in your words. Sometimes he needs to feel needed, especially in a relationship.
"I'm not sure what your definition of having my shit together is, but this version of me, isn't it," he says with a smile. "I didn't sign up for a girlfriend with a perfect life. I signed up for Y/N, and all that comes with her. How dare you short me the fries to my combo?"
You both share a laugh, and as the car settles into the quiet hum of the engine, you notice snow falling and sticking to the slushy roads as you leave the city behind and enter the suburbs. You check the weather forecast on your phone, prompting you to speak up.
"There's a frost advisory tonight, love," you muse. "You think you should stay over tonight? The roads are gonna be awful."
Chan hadn't planned on it, but he realizes he has nothing urgent to rush home to, and he's getting pretty tired too.
"Good idea."
It takes another thirty minutes, but soon, Chan is pulling into your driveway, turning off the car and walking you to your door just as he said he would. He waits patiently next to you, his hands warming in his pockets as he looks around at the snow falling and piling up, covering the black streets in blinding white reflected against the streetlights.
It's a perfect night to snuggle with a special someone.
You turn on the music, an old Aqualung album filling the former silence, making the blanket of white outside look even more magical. You had never found yourself enjoying the quiet company of another until you started dating Chan. It's a new experience for both of you since you can get lost in conversation for hours. But with Chan, there's no pressure to keep coming up with new topics. It's one of the many reasons why he enjoys your company. He can just be himself around you.
You come over to join Chan as he sits on the floor against the couch. He initially begins to unfold his crossed legs to make room for you, but you extend a leg over his, straddling him instead, holding two cups of hot cocoa in your hands.
"Oh, well hello, beautiful," he chuckles, taking one of the mugs from you.
The way he says it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but tease him. You sip your drink, looking at him with a mischievous gaze. "There's just something about the way you say those things to me."
"What things, baby?" Chan asks, playing along. He knows what you mean, but he loves hearing it from you. "When I tell you how pretty you are? How I get caught staring at you at work at least five times a day by the other volunteers?"
You can't contain your giggles, and he takes your mug and his, placing them on the coffee table as he cups your face. "I can feel how hot your cheeks are getting too."
"Because!"
"Because why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't list every reason why I've fallen in love with you to your face."
You bite your lip, realizing Chan's winning the playful banter. He holds onto your hips, shifting himself underneath you and readjusting, all while focusing on being romantic rather than all the nasty things he wants to do to you with you straddling him like this.
He kisses you, gently at first, and then more passionately. "For one, you are beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that..."
You notice the drop in Chan's volume and the edge his tone gains, making you crave him in ways you haven’t been able t0 have him yet.
“I like that.”
“Yeah? You do? You should, ‘cause you’re a pretty girl, my pretty girl of course.” Chan's eyes linger on your lips, and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a single kiss that leaves both of you lingering, breathing heavily, your faces close.
"Call me your pretty girl again, and you might start something you can't finish."
"Who says I can't finish it, pretty girl?" Chan counters with a sly smile, his lips dangerously close to yours.
Chan is the next to initiate another kiss, drawing you into a passionate embrace. His hands trail up the bare skin of your back, hidden beneath your hoodie, leaving a trail of sinfire in their wake. You lean your head back with a gasp as he hums against your neck.
"Listen to those breaths you take, so sweet for me," Chan says, eager to hear more of your reactions. He sucks hard enough to leave a bruise under your collarbone, making you gasp in response.
"Oh my God, Chan, I—" You start to express concern, but the juxtaposition of his arousal and your own, both concealed beneath clothing, interrupts your common sense. He shouldn't be marking you up like this. You realize you'll need to wear a turtleneck or a collared shirt to cover your collarbone. “B-Be careful-”
"I'm sorry, baby. You're just so intoxicating, you know that?" Chan manages to peel himself away from devouring you for a brief moment, a feat that takes immense self-control. "And you have the most adorable smile."
You try to hide your smile, but he pulls your arm away. "No, let me see it. Look at how you get when I compliment you. I can't tell if you love it or hate it, but it's damn hot seeing you get all shy like this. Makes me want to say more, see how else your body responds to me."
"I think it's turning me on," you admit, your voice slightly shaky, and a coy smile forms on your lips.
“You think?” Chan states more than questions, running his nose and lips against your chest, peppering kisses up your neckline. He sucks again, leaving another mark, this time closer to your jaw. You moan in response, and he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips bruise against his, swollen as he pulls back, looking up at you as if you were Aphrodite herself.
“Thank you, babygirl. I’m sorry I left a couple of marks.”
“It’s okay, you should leave a couple more.”
So Chan does just that.
You hold onto his neck as he moves forward, pressing you into the floor, lifting your hoodie up and sliding it over your arms so he can lay more open-mouthed, deliciously wet kisses down to your navel. He dips his tongue in, taking your piercing between his teeth. Your back arches, and he's going for your jeans, ready to unbutton them, but he stops, sitting up on his knees.
Chan knows if he goes any further, it would be akin to dragging him from quicksand.
He has to ask first.
“We’ve never gone this far,” Chan says, feeling somewhat awkward for not just outright asking you. You realize, of course, that you two haven't gone this far, but Chan wants to ensure you're comfortable. How much further are you willing to go? Chan can easily wrap things up right here, but the way you're writhing underneath his lips every time they press into your skin, leading further and further down south; Chan needs you to tell him otherwise.
“I want to go further,” you say, your thumbs hooked into the top of your pants. “You told me you'd finish it, didn't you?”
You assist him in getting your bottoms off, and he nuzzles against the damp fabric of your panties, taking in your scent. “Had no idea you’d smell this amazing,” Chan says, pulling your panties aside to slip a finger in, curling it up. “You must really want me, hmm?”
“Mhm, I do.”
“Can you take more fingers, baby?”
“Yeah, I can,” you nod fervently, vigorously, eager to feel him spread you further. Chan gets two more fingers inside of you, and he pulls the panties even further around your lips, leaning down to kiss and suck your clit. He enjoys the way his saliva catches the light as you buck your hips up.
“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen, babygirl. Are you going to let my cock feel it too?”
“Yes, please, daddy?”
Chan has to process the fact that you've called him this. He nearly short-circuits.
“You must want to be my good girl tonight,” he says as he pulls off his hoodie, tossing it aside and unbuttoning his pants.
“I'd give anything to be your good girl, Chan.”
“Anything?”
His fat cock slaps against your wet slit as he holds it firmly.
“Anything.” you begin to twist your hips, attempting to grind in a way that will make him slide inside you. You're wet, it's spread everywhere, slicking your inner thighs and cheeks. All it takes is one good thrust, and he can –
“I want this, right here,” his firm taps stop you in place, and his eyes lock onto yours as he pushes his cockhead between your folds, stopping as soon as he's sheathed inside, feeling your walls begging for more. “You feel so wet, baby. Is this for me?” he asks, inching inside until he's halfway in. Chan wants to stop, but the sensation of your walls squeezing him proves to be too much, and he bottoms out inside of you.
“Yes!” You cry out, stronger and louder than you intended, spawning Chan to thrust again, rutting into you. He doesn't always go deep; in fact, he's stroking you at just the right angle to make you see stars as you drag your almond nails down his back, feeling his muscles tense under your touch.
“S-sorry,” you hiss, your head falling against the floor as you cum around his cock.
“Keep it up, baby,” he encourages you, “You look so good taking me like this right now, so fucking good.”
"I-I look—"
His firm grip on the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck forces your gaze upwards, compelling you to meet his intense, smoldering eyes.
"Beautiful," he breathes as his thrusts take on a deliberate, measured pace. Each motion propels you closer to the precipice of another orgasm, and you can barely keep your eyes open. His hand presses flat against your head, angling it so you can witness the raw, primal connection between your two bodies. "You look beautiful, say it."
You gasp and muster the strength to whisper, "Beautiful," as he introduces two of his fingers to your lips. You eagerly accept them, your tongue tantalizingly caressing the pads of his digits, still bearing traces of your earlier essence. He withdraws his fingers and expertly circles your clit with confident, steady pressure, evoking whimpering pleas from deep within you.
"Such a good girl," he praises with a low, smoky voice, pride lacing every word. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Can you cum again for me? I just wanna see that face one more time.”
He wants to etch the vision of your blissed-out expression into the depths of his consciousness, ensuring it's the first thing he sees every morning as he awakens with thoughts of you. Instinctively, you attempt to shield your contorted, furrowed brows with your hands, but Chan swiftly restrains your wrists, pinning them above your head with a powerful grip. His other hand intensifies its attentions to your clit, moving more vigorously. He pairs this with shallow, accurate thrusts,each one striking your g-spot with unerring accuracy, causing you to unravel until you could think no more. You’ve been fucked dumb, for the first time in your life. As you gradually return to your senses, you struggle to find words or even make sense of how another human being can make you feel this extraordinary.
Amidst the haze of your post-orgasmic stupor, a lucid thought pierces through: sex is a potent, heady concoction, a force to be reckoned with.
Then, the second wave of awareness washes over you when you hear Chan's voice, close to your ear, whispering those two potent words,
"Good girl."
- fin
#stray kids smut#skz imagines#stray kids kinktober#skz au#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#jinxhallows#bangchan smut#bang chan x you#bangchan x you#bangchan kinktober#bangchan fic#bangchan imagines#bangchan fanfiction#bangchan au#stray kids nonidol au#bang chan smut#bangchan fanfic#chan smut#chan imagines#bang chan imagines#bangchan hard thoughts#bangchan hard hours#skz smut#stray kids hard thoughts
506 notes
·
View notes
Text
Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 4)
Link learns some things. And so do you.
Yet another for the ever growing pile of self-indulgent garbage refuse. Enjoy the process of decomposition with me for a while.
Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6
Alternate Extras: Embrace
Masterlist
TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.
Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.
---
The yiga. A faction of Ganon worshipping traitors formerly of the Sheikah clan, whose main objective is to kill the Hero known as Link (in other words, himself). Known for their distinctive red body suits and white masks. And, strangely enough, their love of bananas.
They were also currently at the very top of Link's (until recently non-existent) shit list, because AM had deemed their threat level too great to allow them to meet each other freely. As Blue had told him, AM's profession placed them at greater danger than the average citizen to the assassins' blades. What that profession was, Link was not told (despite his pleading and intense stares and even one memorable attempt to bargain for the information), but it was deemed necessary to maintain distance because of this.
There were plenty of other useful things in the book too. Not a letter or a note or even a small bundle of documents. A book. An honest to Goddess book. Because there was nothing else the ridiculously thick, neatly piled collection of leather bound miscellaneous papers, maps, diagrams, notes and documents could be. It was the thickness of Link's hand for goodness sakes.
Thankfully, Blue had taken mercy on him (and his desire to get moving as soon as possible) and bookmarked the pages and maps that would be most useful to him. All while giving him that bland, graceful smile of hers and explaining that AM was a very proactive information gatherer, but that they didn't always consider that not everyone wanted to know the exact region Sneaky snails bred in or where the highest priced wheat could be found.
Link very deliberately didn't tell her that he did, in fact, find those very interesting topics to learn about (and that he would be reading through the entire book when he got the chance. later). Because he was still stung that she'd given him a condescending little smile (smirk, it was a damned smirk and Link knew it) when he'd tried to bargain with her for more information on AM.
In total, he'd spent three days in Hateno, gathering information (as though the book wasn't enough), gathering supplies (because as many as were in the slate, it didn't have everything a warrior would need to maintain his gear. Blue's words, not his) and getting to know the people around the area.
Also, armor. Costume fitted (Link didn't think too hard about how Blue had gotten his measurements) as to AM's specifications before they'd left town. The order arrived a little later due to his (apparently) small size causing complications with some of the straps.
Honestly, it felt good. It felt familiar with a hazy kind of comfort that spoke of his body's remembrance of such armor resting upon it often. And suddenly, in that moment, the thought that he had once been a knight didn't feel so far off, despite having no memory of it and very little desire to become as such again.
Ready to go (finally) he put on his boots, tightened the straps of his new (fitted. maybe he'd see about getting his Sheikah armor fitted as well if he was in the area) hyrulian armor set, and took one last shot before departing.
"Where can I get more bananas?" Link tried, going for casual but coming off far too intense for it to be anything but prying. "For the Yiga problem."
Blue just smiled (small and condescending, and so frustrating) before replying evenly. "AM has that well in hand I'd imagine." The knowing glint in Blue's eyes put a pout on Link's face. "It's best you focus on your mission, Courageous One." Then she smiled genuinely. Just a bit, but enough to ease Link's heart as she continued. "Fear naught for your beloved AM. No harm shall befall them while my sister haunts their shadow."
Link believed her. And with that little bit of reassurance, the Hero of Hyrule set out into the world once more. With courage in his heart and his goal ever at the forefront of his mind.
Defeat the Calamity guy. Meet AM. Travel this vast, wondrous world with them for the rest of their days. Or, maybe one day settle down more permanently in Hateno and open a food stand.
Anywhere life took them. Whatever you wanted. This was the beginning of his new life after all, and he was so eager to spend it with you.
---
You stared up at the quickly growing pile of bright yellow fruit with something like regret stabbing at your heart. Just thinking about how much rupees you were about to drop on this one purchase alone was enough to put a hitch in your throat. It was enough to have you contemplating a long walk off that equally long (absurdly long) wooden bridge just next to the stable.
When you'd stopped at Lakeside Stable for the night and told Adino you'd pay him market price for any bananas he brought back to you before you left. You hadn't expected him to take that as a challenge. You hadn't expected Skims to get involved in it as well. And you most certainly had not expected Red to show up out of nowhere with a pile rivaling (and maybe even surpassing) Adino's.
And thus, within the span of a few short hours, you were suddenly several thousand rupees poorer (not that that pantry amount even scratched the surface of your accumulated wealth, but you digress) and many, many bananas richer.
At least they tasted good.
"Not that I'm against your presence. But why are you here, Red?" You asked the red clad woman after (with a heavy heart) passing out everyone's pay for the bananas they'd brought you. (Skims and Red didn't even have the grace to look ashamed for muscling in on the quick profit either, the jerks.)
She didn't even pause from where she'd been fingering through her newly acquired (ill gotten) gains when she hummed playfully. "Oh. Gran thought it'd be wise to send along a little extra protection to ensure The Hero's benefactor remained unmolested during these most crucial of times."
The look on your face must have been confused enough to spur Red to explain. "Gran told us to keep you in the dark about our motivations, but I like you. So I'll tell you the truth, since you seem like the reasonable sort." She finally put the rupees down and turned to face you, eyes hardening into a serious shade of near black as she explained.
"The Hero is without his memory, and until recently, was without motivation to see his mission through with the urgency it requires. Had he been as he was before, just the mention of the Princess would have been enough to send the guy running, if you believe the rambling of nostalgic old gossip crows." Her lips twisted into something too complicated to decipher before it was neutral again.
"But he's not the man he used to be. He's not the princess's knight anymore for all his destiny would push him to be. And so, he needed a new motivation to get him moving." She gave you a smile, but it wasn't a nice one (it was one full of spite and pity, though only the pitying part was directed at you). "That's you. The guy loves you already. Call it situational stockholm or just that damned knightly instincts of his, but you are the apple of his eye." She tried to soften her smile into something humorous, but it fell short.
"Bottom line. You're the replacement motivation. Just until he gets enough of his memories back to get invested in the Princess' wellbeing." She flicked a rupee off the stump she'd gathered them on, expression very closed off as she continued.
"Whenever Mr. hero gets a little too comfortable playing house, we're supposed to dangle you in his face and get him interested again. That you seem invested in his success was just a bonus. Be it the Will of Hylia or just simple coincidence, doesn't matter. You're useful, and if it gets the Princess out of that Hell, we're willing to use that."
Another smile, sharp but honest. "It's our duty after all, to serve the royal family. I'm sure you understand." Despite the way the information settled sourly in your stomach you nodded, keeping your expression as even as possible.
She noticed though, and suddenly her hand was on yours (you hadn't noticed it tightening into a fist). "Don't fret, Apples." She smiled again, softer this time. Eyes lighted with a compassion that held such raw honesty despite her earlier words. "My sister and I are not going to let the elders use you like that. You might have asked yourself why Bluey isn't here instead, since, you know-" She smirked, side-eyeing Adino who'd gone some distance off to try to find more bananas (to take more of your rupees, the little bastard).
"We will fulfill our duties. For the protection of Hyrule and everything we love. But not at your's or your dear Hero's expense. At least, not like that. You see, Bluey has something I do not, and that is a gentle touch. She'll take care of the Hero in the way he needs, not the way that'll get the fastest results." Her smirk widened. "And she's got more of a rebellious streak than me too. Trust in her. She'll protect your dear Hero. Even if she has to spit in the elders' eyes to do it. She never could put her heart aside for the sake of duty."
You were silent for a time, digesting her words with the weight and attention they deserved, before looking back to her. A smile on your lips, and your hand out before her in the gesture of a shake.
"I look forward to doing business with you then, Red." You began, letting the edge of your resolve sharpen your eyes and embolden your words. "Let's do our best to protect Link and save Zelda. We'll give it everything we've got."
Red grinned, full and bright and smug (so unbearably smug, like she had won the lottery. which they didn't have here, and you were not interested in introducing any time soon either). "I knew you were gonna understand. The Goddess wouldn't choose just anyone to guard her chosen's heart."
You blinked. "What?"
Red picked up another rupee, flicking it at you. "What~?"
---
Now, off to work! And then the shadows to rest.
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stage Fright - a Baby Lasagna fanfiction
Who: Marko Purisic / Baby Lasagna
Request: maybe smt where you work for esc and marko has a panic attack before going on the stage and your there for him calming him down and stuff. just angsty with lots of comfort.
Requested by: anonymous.
Word count: 2010
Warnings: contains descriptions of panic attack / anxiety / stage fright. Lots of angst, but also some comfort 😇
A/N: I usually write footballer imagines and fandom whump, so writing something like this is quite new to me. Hope you'll like it, let me know what you think of it 😇
If you want me to write more like this, you can always make a request through my Asks 😉
This story can also be found on my AO3 account, here.
For more information on my Baby Lasagna fanfics, see this masterpost.
At your job working backstage at concerts and events, you were one of the people making sure everything went smoothly backstage, and that the performers had all they needed.
This month you would be working at the Eurovision Song Contest.
Today was the biggest day of all: the final.
You felt confident. Everything had been rehearsed endlessly, the semi-finals had already gone well, and you had built up a good relationship with most of the performers and their entourages.
It was a nice group of artists this year, but one still was your personal favourite: Baby Lasagna.
At first you were drawn to the Croatian candidate because of the rather unusual name, but you quickly learned he went by Marko off-stage, and was somewhat different from the other participants. He was a flamboyant personality on-stage, which proved to be the complete opposite of how his personality was off-stage.
You didn’t need long to see Marko was actually rather shy, could be very insecure, and was humble and polite. There was a cheeky side to him as well once you got to know him better. You liked that about him, and, without actively trying to, you already formed a rather close friendship with him in only this short time of working together.
That was why you immediately knew something was wrong when you found Marko sitting alone on the day of the final, huddled away from everything and everyone.
He sat amongst crates of sound equipment, on the floor, in a dark corner of the backstage maze, hugging his knees. His hands were clamped so tightly around his legs that his fingers had turned white, and he trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Marko had chosen a spot far from the foot traffic from and to the stage, hidden even from his own entourage, and it was a small miracle that you stumbled upon him like you had.
"Marko?" You lowered yourself onto your haunches in front of him, but mindful to keep enough distance between yourselves so not to frighten him or make him feel more uncomfortable.
He looked disheveled, only vaguely aware of his surroundings, and surely not in control of his emotions.
In this moment he was not the extroverted Baby Lasagna, he was introverted Marko. The eccentric costume he wore on stage was replaced by regular jeans and a black hoodie. The make-up wasn’t applied yet, which might be a good thing, because you saw the tears on his face. The haunted look in his eyes scared you, worrying you even more about his well-being.
Suddenly your mind went to a line from the song he was performing with here this week.
My anxiety attacks.
Whilst Rim Tim Tagi Dim had people dancing all over the world, you couldn’t help but notice its darker meaning, too. And it clicked into place for you now. That line about anxiety wasn’t just a line. It actually held truth for Marko, and the proof of that was right in front of your eyes with him having a serious panic attack.
"Marko?" You repeated softly.
His gaze flickered to you, but he didn’t acknowledge your presence in any other way.
"I need you to talk to me," you nudged carefully.
Marko swallowed hard. He made every effort to get himself to speak, but couldn’t. The words he meant to say got involuntarily silenced on their way to his mouth, and, finally, he just sadly shook his head. Fresh tears fell as he rested his forehead on his knees, shrinking even more into himself.
Your heart broke for him. It was hard to believe you only met him a week and a half ago, with how much you already cared for him.
Marko shivered in his hoodie. His breaths became even more rapid and shallow, accompanied by the occasional wheeze or whimper. He was losing more and more control over himself with every heartbeat of his racing pulse. Where first maybe only his hands had shook, there now wasn’t a muscle in his body that wasn’t shaking.
He raised his head and looked up at you again, this time really seeing you.
Marko’s lower lip trembled, and it took effort, but finally he got some words out. "Help me…"
"I’m trying," you answered helplessly. You wanted nothing more than to help him, take him out of this panic attack, but you really had no idea where to begin. "Do you need me to bring someone from your team over?"
"No!" Marko nearly jumped a foot into the air at the mere idea of that. "They don’t need to see me like this. I’m a mess, I…"
"Calm down, calm down," you tried to ease. "We can do this. You and I, we can get you through this."
Having suffered from panic attacks yourself, you suddenly remembered what your sister used to do for you to get you to calm down.
"Marko." You got his attention. "I want to try something to help you calm down. Are you okay with me touching you?"
He still was in the height of his panic attack, with fear wild in his eyes, but he still nodded his head. He wasn’t sure what you had in mind, but he trusted you.
You scooted closer to him, fully sitting down on the floor by his side.
Marko trembled heavier than ever and he was truly hyperventilating now. Tears sparkled in his eyes, but he gave in to you. He wanted for you to offer comfort and take him out of this anxiety.
"Close your eyes," you said softly.
Marko hesitated for just a second, but slowly closed his eyes. He didn’t know you for that long, yet you felt secure and safe to him.
"Whenever you’re no longer comfortable with anything I’m doing, you need to tell me," you insisted, "and I’ll stop immediately."
Marko gave you a strained nod, but he surrendered to you.
You moved slowly, making sure not to make any unexpected movements which would cause Marko any more fright.
You placed one of your hands flat on his chest. Only now you realised how heavy this panic attack actually was for him. His chest heaved and trembled under your hand, and now that you were closer to him, you heard the whimpers that were hidden in the wheezes of his breathing.
With your other hand you picked up his wrist, gently pressing two fingers against the pulse point. As you had expected, his heart was racing.
"I need you to focus on my hand on your chest." You kept your voice as calm and serene as possible. Marko dipped his head once, eyes still firmly pressed shut.
"Whenever I press into your chest, I need you to breathe in through your nose, and try and press my hand away with your chest," you instructed, "when I release the pressure, you exhale slowly through your mouth."
Marko wanted to speak, show you he had understood, but he found his words once again stolen from him by the panic attack. Instead, he dipped his head once again, but it was all the confirmation you needed.
You slowly and gently pressed the palm of your hand a little firmer into his chest.
Marko took a shaky breath. He did his best to get his lungs to fill properly and get his chest to give counter-pressure against your hand, but couldn’t quite manage.
"It’s alright," you eased him, "take your time. Just focus on the rhythm of the pressure of my hand and try to breathe with that."
You felt how Marko was really trying to, but also how he wasn’t succeeding yet. His inhales were broken by shudders, and his exhales disrupted by sudden and involuntary gulps.
"That’s it," you encouraged anyway, "easy does it."
Your hand never left his chest as you gently applied pressure and released it, with Marko doing his utmost best to get his breathing to fall in sync with it. You spoke soft encouragements, yet the silent moments in between were filled with Marko’s quiet whimpers.
It didn’t matter to you how long it would take, you would help Marko through this.
---
Eventually, you sat with Marko like that for well over 30 minutes. There was no reason to rush anything. Soundchecks for the grand finale of tonight wouldn’t be starting for another few hours, so you gave him all the time he needed to pull himself out of this panic attack.
Marko’s pulse had returned to a regular, calm rhythm, as had his breathing. His trembling had subsided, but he sat beside you looking worn out from everything he had just gone through.
You gently let your hand fall away from Marko’s chest for the first time again. You kept a close eye on him, but he was able to keep his breaths calm by himself now.
"Open your eyes," you said softly.
Marko slowly did so. Even though the area where you sat was dimly lit, he still squinted at the light. He ran slightly trembling fingers through his silvery hair, before he finally looked up at you sitting next to him.
"I’m sorry about that." Marko sounded tired.
"No need to apologise." You shook your head. "May I ask what happened?"
"This happened." Marko chuckled wryly, motioning his hands to the area around you. "I’ve never performed at an event of this magnitude before. And… well, my stage fright took the better of me, I guess. It does that sometimes."
The airiness with which he spoke of his stage fright was pitiful, almost like it was the most common thing in the world for him.
"But it doesn’t often get this bad, I reckon," you said sympathetically.
"No." Marko sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair once more. "It doesn’t usually lead to a full-blown panic attack, and certainly not like this one, but, apparently, big stages lead to big anxiety." A dark chuckle followed.
"That’s not even remotely funny," you scoffed.
Marko gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I’m used to it by now."
He shifted his body, grunting softly as he stretched his cramped legs out in front of him. He leaned his head back against one of the crates behind him and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment.
"But what you did really helped me." He spoke after a few seconds of silence. "I’m not quite sure I would have gotten through this one on my own, so I’m really grateful."
You shrugged. "I’ve got a bit of experience with panic attacks as well, I’m afraid. So I know how bad they can get."
Marko’s gaze slowly shifted back to you. "Yourself or helping someone deal with it?"
"Myself, unfortunately." You sat back into a more comfortable position, too. "Some events in life leave more scars than you can imagine," you added darkly.
"I’m sorry." Marko shortly rested a hand on your arm in support.
"What I just did with you, my sister used to do that for me whenever my anxiety flared up," you explained, "it always helped me through it, so…" You let your voice trail off.
"Well, tell her it’s a good technique." Marko winked lazily. "And I’m glad you’re the one who found me just now. Thank you."
The sincere thankfulness was in his voice and in every fibre of his being.
The two of you talked for a while longer, before Marko slowly hoisted himself back onto his feet. He looked steady again, ready to go, and a glimpse of the extroverted Baby Lasagna shone through the cracks again.
"Will you be alright?" You stood back up, too.
"Yes." Marko nodded confidently. "I know it sounds strange, especially after what you’ve seen just now, but it feels like I needed to get this out of my system in order to be ready for tonight."
You chuckled, glad to see the sparkle of joy back in his eyes, instead of the sparkle of tears and panic. "Come see me if anything threatens to overwhelm you again."
Marko nodded gratefully. "I sure will."
#baby lasagna#marko purisic#marko purišić#baby lasagna x reader#marko purisic x reader#baby lasagna imagine#baby lasagna fanfic#baby lasagna fanfiction#marko purisic imagine#marko purisic fanfic#marko purisic fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#eurovision#eurovision 2024#eurovision fanfic#sarahspostsbabylasagna
126 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi! ur writing is so good ily 😻
um so imagine inexperienced!din who comes across an “adult video” where the guy is eating the girl out and din just absolutely fixates on it, he just cannot get the thought of doing the same thing to reader and once he finally does..? he’s insatiable, he just refuses to stop, give you a break or anything.. he can’t help it, is whining and groaning into her and grinding against the bed.. (maybe cums in his pants idk 🤭)
🏃🏾♀️
Hi ! Thank you for your request. Hope this is what you had in mind!
Just a little taste.
CW: desperate!din, inexperienced!din, brothel, mention of sex work, mando'a language, mention of porn, oral sex (f), fingering, din cums in his pants.
The bounty was a man who would frequent these sinful parts of Cocruscant and you had to play the part. Mando, a client and you… a worker. Your pretty face would make getting information much easier. Mando, on the other hand… would stick out like a sore thumb with his shiny beskar armor.
So, you wore the uniform. It would probably qualify as a dress, although there wasn’t nearly enough fabric to be one. An almost transparent veil covered your breasts, in two crossed lines that went down your back and hid in the “skirt”, also transparent, making the color of your underwear known by everyone.
From that moment on, Din didn’t look at you. Maybe he thought you were ugly? You huffed in frustration and went to interrogate the clients, playing the flirty and innocent girl.
**
If Din could have looked for the bounty anywhere else, he would’ve. He was thankful for the heavy helmet covering his face, disguising the permanent blush on his cheeks. He sat at the bar, an immobile statue to the rest of the costumers. The bartender asked if he needed anything, he shook his head. For now, he only wanted to look around and keep an attentive ear on what people said.
You, on the other hand… You made it hard for him to concentrate. He saw you going around like a butterfly, like you were in your element. He felt ashamed of the jealousy tying his stomach and… another sentiment. Unfamiliar.
Strong, unknown desire.
He tried to concentrate on anything other than your goddess-like body. But this whole place… reeked of sex and sin. The music in some alien language was sensual and the projected holovids were… literal porn.
He felt the familiar tightness in his pants that happened every time you got too close to him, and he cursed under his breath. A particular holovid held his attention for longer. It depicted a humanoid female getting eaten out by a male. The latter was passionate about it, and he could see the pleasure on her face.
Dank farrik, he wanted to do the same thing to you. Bury his head between your thighs and live there for a little while. He asked for an alcoholic beverage for courage, that he drank in a hidden corner by barely lifting his helmet. He then passed next to you to attract your attention and pointed to one of the closed rooms. You gave him a puzzled look but assumed that he had found some information.
**
When you entered the room and locked the door behind you, you found Mando sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked so out of place here, way too big for that little space.
“Did you find anything?”
There was a slight tilt of his helmet as he took in your beautiful form.
“No.” The modulated voice responded.
You crossed your arms in frustration.
“Then, why are we here? This man was about to give me everything.”
“It’s… hard to concentrate here, cyar’ika.”
The affectionate name made your cheeks heat up.
“Well, not my fault if you’re a pervert. Let me do my job.” You turned around to open the door, but his broad figure suddenly shadowed yours. A gloved hand stopped yours and he turned you around, crowding you against the door. You looked up at him, confused by his change in demeanor.
“I saw something that I want to do to you. Please.”
You would lie to yourself if you said that you were indifferent to him. Even though you had no idea what he looked like, you had thought about him in that way. And he looked so desperate and adorable right now, how could you say no?
“Okay.” You responded breathlessly.
His hips pressed against yours, making you feel his hard erection.
“Do you trust me, cyar’ika?” He asked as his gloved hand cupped your face.
“Yes. With my life.”
And it was the truth – he had saved you on multiple occasions. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to do something, anything. He took off his gloves and you felt his warm hands undoing the top of your dress. He tied a piece of it around your eyes, bunching the fabric together so it was less see-through. You opened your eyes to see that everything was veiled, you could barely see. Din slid the rest of your dress down. Then, he guided you delicately to the clean bed, where you laid down for him, thighs parted. He could see how damp you were through your panties, where a wet stain had formed.
“You’re so pretty.” He breathed in a not-modulated voice, suddenly. It was very similar, but much warmer.
Oh.
The helmet was off.
You needily cupped his face between your hands, feeling the slight burn of facial hair there, and you brought him closer.
“Can I kiss you?” You asked almost shyly.
As a response, his lips latched onto yours. It was surprisingly soft, the way he kissed you. But still, it made you feel even needier. You bit slightly on his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth for you, letting you slide in your tongue. Din’s moans died in your mouth.
All of a sudden, his lips had left yours, and you felt him delicately tracing down your body. Your back arched a little, inviting him even closer.
His lips found the line of your hip, the start of the fabric covering your core.
“Please.” You begged softly.
And he was eager to indulge you. He slipped your panties down and you kicked them off. His lips slid down your pubic bone.
“Have you ever done that before?” You asked. It wasn’t judgmental. You just wanted to help.
“No.” He responded, almost shamefully.
“Don’t overthink it.”
He nodded and licked a tentative stripe on your slit. You whimpered at the contact, hands grabbing his head, where you found curly hair. Beginning to feel a little more confident, he used the same motion to lick your slit a few times. Then, he used two fingers to open your lips and find your most sensitive spot.
He used the tip of his tongue to touch your clit, just to see your reaction.
“Fuck… Din, lick me there, yes.”
Encouraged by your words, Din circled his tongue around it at a steady rhythm. Your fingers tugged on his curls as you moaned in appreciation.
“Don’t stop… You’re gonna make me cum…” You warned.
And he didn’t. He redoubled his efforts, licking at a face pace, until your legs started to shake from your orgasm. He didn’t stop even then, licking and sucking through your orgasm, while you were very sensitive.
“Oh, stars… Y-You can stop…”
But visibly, he intended to keep going. He sucked softly, while one of his fingers found your entrance. You were so sensitive; you came almost instantly when he curled up his finger. Encouraged by your moans, he devoured you, even though you were begging him to stop, overstimulated. He ate you like he hadn’t had food in days, producing lewd wet sounds with his mouth. He even added another finger, curling them at the same rhythm as the motions of his tongue. The oversensitivity of it all almost hurt, but pleasure was even more overwhelming.
You couldn’t see, but you felt him moving against the mattress, rutting into it like he was imagining himself fucking you, but instead, he fucked you with his fingers and his tongue.
“Din… Wish I could see you…” You whimpered softly.
Mando groaned against your cunt, hips thrusting faster into the mattress. He pulled another orgasm out of you before you held him with your thighs to stop him. He kept fucking into the mattress until he came, staining the inside of his suit.
Out of breath, Din fell heavily beside you and brought you closer. You lifted your chin to find his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. When you pulled away, you whispered:
“As much as I would like to stay here forever, we have work to do if we want to be paid…”
He groaned in frustration.
“You’re right, mesh’la. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you there…”
#writing requests#din djarin#din djarin smut#din djarin x you#mandalorian#mandalorian smut#mandalorian x you#mandalorian x reader#mandalorian x yn#mandalorian x y/n#din djarin x yn#din djarin x y/n#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x you#din djarin x reader
688 notes
·
View notes
Note
Rin!! What kinds of role-plays do you think each member likes, or is their favorite? From plot, to costumes, and all of that. Like maid/mistress, boss/employee, nurse/patient, professor/student, officer/prisoner, etc.
what a fun question hehe i had a good time thinking of these 😽
chan - this is almost solely bc of that one fancall where he told a stay “please arrest me” lmao but officer/prisoner! i can see channie leaning into his cheekier side for this and purposely dodging your questions w a playful giggle, grinning up at you and whining “i don’t know~” all airheaded and innocent. but he also fits the obedient role perfectly. he’d go absolutely crazy for scenes where you’re “interrogating” him while he’s tied to a chair, completely at ur mercy as you give him head or ride him until he can’t form a coherent sentence. he’d also love being handcuffed and bent over the interrogation desk as a way to “get information” from him
lino - strangers! this is the perfect roleplay for minho bc he loves to tease and seduce you. he loves the chase, but at the same time he’s very guarded and wouldn’t actually want to give himself to someone he doesn’t know. so pretending to be strangers who meet out in public, striking up a convo, flirting w each other and working each other up until you take him back to “your place” excites him like nothing else. he’d pull out all his charms like he’s really trying to win you over, and he definitely turns his bratting up to a 100 too. he might even pretend to flirt w others just to see how long you can keep up the act before dragging him home and fucking him senseless. he’s so passionate n obsessive he really makes it feel like you’re discovering each other’s bodies for the first time
binnie - royalty/knight!!! oh i think binnie would absolutely love playing out any role that involves him being your loyal protector or bodyguard of some sort. it makes him feel so strong and proud while simultaneously getting to serve you, meeting your every beck and call without question…he’s your valiant knight who everyone fears but falls to his knees for you in an instant. he’ll kneel at your bedside to give you head or even offer to be your “throne” himself. he loves to worship your body and and will gush abt how he’d do anything for you and let you use him however you please, as long as he gets to be by your side. he also loves to hear you say how brave and strong he is and how good he makes you feel, like he was made only for your pleasure~
hyunjin - photographer/model or artist/muse! in the case of photography he’d like to be the model w you in charge of his photoshoot, snapping pictures of him and ordering him to take certain poses, gradually getting more suggestive w them and telling him to remove more clothes. he’d be so cute playing coy when you tell him to spread his legs and lean back so you can capture just how hard he’s become. his favorite is when you take pictures before and after completely wrecking him. for artist/muse, you’re his muse! it starts out innocent enough w him shyly admiring you as he paints you, until he slowly lets his imagination wander to bad places and you catch the twitching bulge in his pants. ofc it ends w you teaching him a lesson for being such a pathetic pervert
jisung - nurse/patient! hannie adores this type of roleplay bc it’s the perfect excuse for him to be coddled and cared for to his heart’s content. he really plays up the role of your helpless patient who’s in such a weak state that the only thing that can nurse him back to health is you <3 you can also add an inspection kink into the mix, w you carefully examining every part of his body as he gets progressively squirmier and more turned on basking in your attention until he’s leaking through his hospital gown. you press your hand to his hot face and murmur sympathetically that he’s definitely got a terrible fever, and you have just the cure~ the only way to get rid of all the pain in his body is to drown him in pleasure instead
felix - maid/mistress! he gets so excited abt dressing up in a cute classic maid outfit w thigh highs and a frilly headband! he loves feeling your eyes glued to him as he cleans up around you, barely holding back his giggles when he bends over so you can catch a glimpse of the lingerie he’s wearing under his skirt. he really plays up the innocent act to pretend like he’s seducing you completely on accident, and he’d be sooo surprised when you flip his skirt up and bend him over the coffee table. he’d also love to do his chores w a vibrating plug inside of him that you have the remote for, so you can turn up the setting while he’s carrying a tray to make his shaky hands drop it or make him knock over a vase bc his knees buckled, then punish him for being so clumsy
seungmin - boss/employee! smth abt seungmo fits that disciplined workplace sub so well. he buys the most well-tailored suit that fits his body proportions so perfectly so he can look irresistible for you as he carries out all the tasks you give him. it can go one of two ways, w him being a model employee who gets called into your office to be rewarded by you for always performing so well, or he could get punished for making mistakes, even smth as small as dropping a stack of important files or spilling coffee. either way he ends up on his knees for you, legs spread as you step on his bulge through his slacks, or kneeling under your desk to give you head as you work <3 he esp loves when you “take phonecalls” while fucking him
jeongin - professor/college student! this makes for the perfect scenario to incorporate corruption/dumbification which both fit innie so well. sometimes you play out the cliche of him being a desperate, failing student who’s willing to do anything to pass your class. he plays the role insanely well, so wide-eyed and nervous, but very eager to prove himself to you and do whatever you ask of him to earn a good grade. he starts off acting so innocent, stammering out things like “are you sure this is okay? it’s so dirty” but by the end of it he’s on your desk sweaty and covered in his own cum and still moaning for more. he’d also love scenarios where you’re actually teaching him, showing him how to give head properly, where to touch you, how to move his hips and fuck you like a good boy <3
#ask#💌 skz#alternate answer for channie…predator/prey 🙏 but maybe that’s bc the idea of chasing channie through the woods is very#well 😸#now playing howl by florence and the machine
193 notes
·
View notes
Note
A short (or not) ramble of scenarios and questions for reverse: 1999 self aware. (sorry if this bothers you, I just don’t have enough confidence to post it on my own blog (plus I love your content))
- Okay so first of all, in the main page of the game, when you click on the upper left corner with your level and username, you go to a screen with Vertin looking fly as ever along with some user information.
So if Vertin can see the game’s ui, then she can see the year in which the player has joined the game (2023-2024). I haven’t dived deep into Vertin’s character so I can’t portray her reaction to much, but I feel like she would tell this info to someone close like Sonetto.
Also our motto: I put “When in a rush, say ‘runs in high heels cutely.’”. I’d be so embarrassed if anyone (even fictional sentient characters) saw that. Like im dead.
On that topic, when you mentioned in your Sonetto self aware post that she can sometimes see us, and honestly, I’d be even more embarrassed. Cause like, if any of the characters from games I played, were sentient and could see me, id pray they didn’t see my bad angle. Like imagine looking up to the sky to see, just for a second, the chin of a head as the hands go to scratch their nose. Like the first impressions I would make.
- P2p players. Imagine the player spending money on the game (at the risk of Vertin possibly seeing their credit card number) to help level up or get costumes for their fave characters.
(Some misc. questions)
-what would happen if player didn’t log in the game for a while (a week to a month as best) cause I would ditch some games to spend more time on others
- What does Vertin think of the mail messages that the player gets? Like the latest mail I got was the discord event invitation. Upon closer inspection and critical thinking, it would hint that there would be more players other than us because it says the winners get 60 clear drops (oh and money too)
- If I remember correctly, I think you mentioned about Vertin hearing the player sometimes. So imagine her hearing us trash talk certain character *cough* Constantine *cough*.
(Anyways, I love your content ❤️ especially your fmn headcanons, can’t wait to see more posts!!)
;R1999 - Self-Aware AU (2)
Answering some questions and discussing the Self-Aware AU. A follow up of this post.
not a bother at all, you bring up really good questions and details that are fun to explore! I'm glad you like my stuff, have a nice day o7!
On the subject of Vertin seeing the player's profile.
With the way I intended to portray Vertin within the AU, I don't think she would be affected by the date on the Player's profile!
This is the date you came into contact with her from your perspective, whatever time and space that flows within your world, not hers─the world behind the fourth barrier that she cannot see nor hear nor even fathom, let alone try to make sense of. In a way, it's like expecting ants to care about concepts we made up, such as time. They understand night and day, they do not understand 3PM nor 8AM.
Is it truly proof that time can go beyond 1999, when this is something that only she can see? When it doesn't affect a single thing within her universe by being part of a game menu meant for your eyes only? There's also the fact that she finds out the proper time of the world in the 1.4 update, in Chapter 05.
Her dynamic with the Player is something I like to keep vague, so that everyone can fill in the blanks, but ultimately it is something so complex and private for Vertin─who sees it as a one-sided relationship, since she cannot hear nor see you, unlike other arcanists who may reach the 100% bond─that I don't think she would talk about it with anyone, not even Sonetto! The name on your profile and whatever message you've written there are secrets she will take to her grave. The idea of Vertin being the eyes and hands of the Player, but having no way to truly see or hear them makes for a really fun concept to explore!
And on the subject of messages, let's be honest, if you've written something funny or some modern shitpost, chances are she won't understand it LMFAO so it's okay! I literally just have my socials and "men enjoyer" listed there.
Oh! But since you brought it up, the message section could be a fun, little way to communicate with Vertin, since she can read what's on there!
As for P2P players, Vertin wouldn't see any information from the Player's credit card since that's something that happens outside the app lolol. Like, to me, it directly opens to google play transaction stuff.
On the subject of the player dropping the game for long periods of time.
Hmm, in the first post I said that there might be characters ouside Vertin and her suitcase who may be self-aware, with their own goals and such. But nothing truly "matters" unless the Player is there to witness it. So to keep including these possibilities and details, I feel like there's two options, pick whichever you like the most!
One, time continues as usual within the game─but once it reaches an important date where the plot is meant to kick in with some important event, it simply resets back to where you left it. This is a world that exists outside of your perception, but cannot continue without you.
Two, time freezes entirely within the game─but only for those who are not self-aware. Keep in mind we're talking about long periods of time, this wouldn't happen if you log in every day, or every few days. This is what happens when your phone picks up the fact that Reverse: 1999 is one of the unused apps taking up space in your phone. This is a world that stops existing once you stop looking at it.
In both options, the Wilderness would remain unaffected as it seems to be entirely disconnected from the flow of time and space outside of it.
On the subject of the game's mail.
Since the messages auto-delete and all, I can't check but I'm pretty sure Vertin receives mail too? There were a few ones from a few characters a while back like Druvis III or An-an Lee, and I think the implication is that they were vaguely addressing Vertin?
If someone has screenshots and can confirm this, please let me know!
Either way, the easy answer is that yeah, she knows this is a game, so she could make the assumption that there's more players. She has access to your friend list, after all! And even if you don't have anyone added, the fact that it exists is enough for her to start connecting the dots.
I don't remember saying that Vertin can hear the Player, though! I think I was pretty consistent with her not being able to see nor hear you, to have the Player as some sort of eldritch, unknowable entity. But I also write so much stuff in this blog that it's hard to keep up sometimes lolol, if I've mentioned somewhere that Vertin can hear the player, it was a mistake!
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
prima donna
it wasn’t much, but it was home.
there wasn’t a day that went by that you weren’t free, weren’t flying, weren’t dancing twirling and swirling on the dance floor.
wasn’t a night where you wouldn’t have your crips voice flood the bar. where people wouldn’t drop their tasks to watch in awe as your songs took flight, soaring through the skies as you bring them along your adventure
you ignored the creaky floor boards, the loose nails, and the odd stench. you helped fix up the moth chewed curtains, stayed later to clean up the seating areas and came in earlier to clean the bar and stock inventory.
yet those hours seemed to get lost in translation as your weekly cash flow never increased.
yes it was sleazy, but in a sinful establishment as this it’s to be expected.
albeit a less than stellar start to your career, vil had insisted that it was wise to have a ‘humble beginning’. you argued that being a forever orphan in a entirely new world was a good enough start, but you both knew it was less than wise to reveal such a thing.
information is power in showbiz after all.
so here you were, currently employed as an entertainer in the ‘soul of the hare; bar and lounge’. it was lounge known for their entertainment, especially for its signature themes. every quarter the owner would send a poll to their customers- no, their vip customers- only. they give them 4 options for this quarters theme. each and every time the theme would get picked, a new one would take its place in the next poll. and if a theme didn't get picked for 3 polls in a row, then it was 'executed.'
but no matter what theme they'd dress you up in, it was always accompanied by a pair of fishnets and an undersized costume. it was no doubt less than savory for your taste. the sexy clothes were a little too flimsy, the corsets were a little to tight, and the leather boots sometimes a little too tight to the point it'd give you blisters and leave your legs a blue-ish color you know they're supposed to be.
but the entertainment part of the job... some got luckier than others. like you.
all you had to do was dress up in your little (literal) costumes, put on your cheap makeup- until the stylists had a fit and demanded they use their higher end makeup- and sing your little heart out for the patrons.
the songs they would make you sing were according to the theme. if it was underwater themed they would make you into some kind of siren. if it was medieval themed with dragons and knights, they would make you into some kind of 'princcess.' yet you knew that if past princesses saw you... costume- if you could hardly call it that- they'd be rolling in their graves.
and the choreography- whenever they'd show you what you'd have to do it made your nose itch. and when they would make you practice said choreo... it made you want to crawl out of your skin as you imagined the mirror to be the audience. stopping their sleay business talks to gawk and leer at you.
it didn't matter the theme you part took in, or choero you were forced to preform every time you were on stage. but every time you would re-enter the living world and slip out of your own fantasy- gleaming, beady eyes would always be staring right back at you.
like canine eyes at ngiht you could see each glasses- head's reflective gaze through their clear speeks. no matter how long someones bangs were you'd still catch the light in their eye. it didn't even matter if you had a mask on, you could still feel their eyes tracking your every movement, every flinch and muscle spasm.
eyes were everywhere.
but…
this was your chance. you can put up with a few unpaid hours, a few patrons eyeing you and the silly props they made you preform with. the costumes weren't... too bad. one you got out of your comfort zone you were able ignore the pinching fabrics, and hey! the leather booty shorts for pirate quarter weren't that short if you pulled them down enough. and look! they even gave you a little top hat head band for the circus quarter! how cute!!
and a whip too… but that's besides the point
despite the religious sounding name, the soul of the hare is a mature club where lots of people do private business. where the illegal scoundrels would meet to make soul binding deals, or to simply come out for a drink and enjoy the scene. you're were able to recognize a few politicians, businessmen, and celebrities... and a few influencers who were promptly escorted out when they didnt listen to the 'no phone rule'
it’s a… speakeasy, of sorts; a speakeasy for the rich, famous, and important people are able to fuck around and find it without any consequences... hence the open dance floor below the creakily old stage.
it’s the greatest kept secret in modern high society.
and yet...it was heaven for its customers and hell for its employees.
you couldn’t remember a time when you got a full eight hours of sleep and didn’t have some kind of discoloration on you.
whenever you guys were getting to open for the night, the stage owner would always gather you up for a little pep talk of sorts. and yet he would always say the exacts same thing:
'to break the heart of a hare you will need to jack hammer it. you will need to beat it down until it can no longer fight, til it can no longer even flinch. to the point where the muscles are fully torn and the bones are grown to dust. it's you choice whether you're the jack hammer, or the hare.'
...each time she said it you cringed every time. it's stupid. thought of last minute and not as motivational as they think it is.
but regardless of how hard the work got, no matter how hard the girls sucked at being girls girls: this was your chance
this was the break the future legends of tomorrow- you got. nothing comes easy in life. you knew that first hand. from teleporting to a strange world, being in an all boys school for 4 years, and dealing with... him. you could do anything.
no matter how much you got ground into the ground- you'd allow it.
you'd allow the backhanded comments about your weight, about you background- you'd allow it. you'd allow them to use and abuse you in order to turn out perfect. you'd give them access to your soul, to your gifts.
vil had told you it was the ultimate sacrifice. that monetary distresses were temporary and if you were able to suffer unimaginable hardships and up your work ethic to the test: you would be rewarded with the will of steel. with a new found hunger; a blossoming passion blooming through out your very being as you're pushed and shoved and chipped away into the perfect gem.
this was the place where diamond in the roughs go to get shaped and polished into gemstones.
you weren’t sure if you regretted it or not. truly.
you have reached unimaginable heights here. you’ve found your niche, you’ve improved more than you ever your wildest daydreams deemed possible; more than your old teacher would even allow you to dream of.
when you danced you were not longer awkward and self conscious. your body moved as one the way a river would run through a forest. twisting and turning yet never stopping, never ceasing its flow no matter how big the rocks were, how shallow the bank was, especially if the water got thinner up ahead. when you danced you felt loose like water. free as a flowing stream.
every time you finished dancing you had nameless shadows snapping at your performances like the pretentious characters they were playing.
more than once you were offered a pay raise to entertain. to connect - with the customers. it was even highly encouraged by your managers for you to connect because of your popularity.
you'd always decline.
your fellow performers lunged and clawed for those chances, bled and practiced til their knees dislocated for those chances. they were willing to do anything for the opportunity to connect and make a lasting impression with the rich and powerful.
you didn’t need to. you had vil. you had one of your closest friend since college in your corner. watching your every move and guiding your every step. you didn’t need to do that side of the job since you already had vil’s support.
he'd make sure you were eating well, got the moves correct, and sung with the voice of a prodigy- nailing every high note and bridge that the others couldn't reach.
of course your peers were jealous. sure, they envied you having vil in your corner- but it's because you were given training they didn't have. you were trapped under the wing of a world star professional. and all they had were business men and second-tier wanna-be's.
but you also kept your soul.
... you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you succumbed to the industry and joined the other clawing prisoners and sign your life away.
if you didn't have your soul, then who were you?
you didn’t want to hand over your soul to some slime-ball producer. so, you locked it away in a box and carried it wherever you went while vil protected it's key.
for now.
it was a cautious trade. a hesitant sign as you made a legally binding contract with vil schoenheit. of course he supported you! but he wanted to have at least a little bit of compensation for his…investments. you can’t blame him can you?
after all, your improvement and growth is being sponsored by his kindness... and the fact that it would keep him up at night knowing your talents were going to waste. oh and money of course. lots and lots of money. he always made sure to remind you of that.
every time he took you outfit shopping he wouldn't even look at the price tags, every time you would find yourself laying in bed too sore to practice he'd give you a call asking how you were.
he'd especially call you when he had a sneaking suspicion that you were drowning yourself in a hidden bottle of vodka a entertainer snuck in for you last night. he made sure to drill into you the unspeakable number of dollars he would spend on you. barking at you and your carelessness while you were too hung over from your previous nights activities with said bottle of liquor.
you were glad he hadn't outright called you a burden. if he said then you decided you would kill yourself that very night.
you felt bad for how much you made vil stress and worry, truly! but improvement came with a price. talent can only get you so far until you’re evenly matched with everyone else. its either you're getting worse or they’re getting better. every day you fight for your place in the studio. fight for your place on both the big, old stage and the tiny platforms they'd allowed the exceptional dancers to dance on.
every night there’s another muffled sniffle in the dormitories coming from a different bunk each night. you were older, the fresh age of 21, there is no way you should be crying- no reason for someone so grown to be acting like such a child.
but a person can only take so much of the same rigorous routine for so long. can only push their limits for so long.
you couldn’t disappoint vil.
you couldn’t disappoint yourself.
you couldnt allow yourself to join the desperate party that agreed to sell their very essence for a lick of fame- refused yourself to not stoop to that desperate level in order to get ahead.
you had no choice but to believe in vil's words: that a persistent, hard work ethic and talent would be enough to make your dreams a reality. that all those hours of torture weren't for nothing.
but he failed to tell you about the in between of dreams and reality. forgot to mention reality actually.
you fought.
you cried.
you bled.
you were bruised. abused. for hours
your vocal chords were tested to their limits.
each practiced step of the routine on the wobbly stage ignited a new muscle group each day.
your spine screamed in agony each night when you gently, weakly laid yourself in bed. consciousness blinking out like a blown candle before you were awakened by the shrilling alarm mere hours later. only to repeat the same process again.
you can do it.
you can do it.
you have to do it
you have- must do it.
you can’t disappoint vil.
you can’t disappoint vil.
you can’t disappoint yourself..
each day got a little harder. each day you got a little quieter, struggling to keep up with your friends conversations. sometimes preferring to stay silent through out their conversations.
you no longer had any spare energy to waste talking; you used permanent vocal rest as a quick excuse when your friends asked you about your sudden silence.
… a performers pride is easily broken, so they were offended enough to give you the side eye whenever you would pass. how they would all scoff and roll their eyes at you.
it was okay, it was better this way. you didn't have anyone to distract you so it's time to bring on your A game. and yet... you were alone more than ever
blinking away the thoughts, you reassociated within the crowd of performers became to clap thunderously loud.
tonight was a birthday after all, and you were tasked with giving him his present- whoever he may be.
so fire up the lights and startup the music, because the 'soul of the hare' was now open for business.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#tiyoin 🔎#vil schoenheit#vil x reader#vil twst#yandere twst x reader#sorry guys- i started a new series :(#yes this is lounge singer reader EHEHHEHE#azul x reader#leona x reader#malleus x reader
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mattea Murdock, the Daredevil Drummer of Philly
In celebration of the forthcoming new Spider-Punk: Arms Race series (not to mention Hobie stealing scenes in "Across the Spider-Verse" last year), I wanted to finally write up my long-overdue overview post on Mattea Murdock! If you haven't read her introductory run yet, check it out here.
Mattea truly stands on her own in the wide canon of alternate universe DDs. She is a female Daredevil, she is Latina, and she somehow managed to escape Marvel's NYC gravity and base herself in Philadelphia, where she defends its citizens from violence and exploitation. Hobie and his self-styled Spider-Band encounter her in Spider-Punk (2022) #3, when they make a detour to fix the busted Spider-Van. They are all immediately-- and correctly-- impressed.
Mattea: "Yo, Kam!"
Hobie: "Wait, you know each other?!"
Kamala: "Duh! You think I wouldn't know the Daredevil Drummer of Philly?"
Hobie: "You're a drummer too?"
Mattea: "Best in town."
Hobie: "Oh man, my friend Gwen is a pretty dope drummer too. I think y'all would definitely get along."
Mattea: "Hope they're ready to get outplayed by a pretty, blind girl."
Spider-Punk vol. 1 #3 by Cody Ziglar, Justin Mason, Jim Charalampidis, and Travis Lanham
I talked a little about her killer character/costume design when she was first introduced (I was a fool; of course she's blind), and my love for her look has only grown. It's badass, distinctive, and it slots her beautifully into Hobie's punk rock world while still evoking that trademark Daredevil image (red, sticks, pointy bits...). Her irises are red, which is a visual choice I enjoy in more heightened, fantastical DD stories/art styles, and I think it works for Mattea. Heck, I could even imagine them being colored contact lenses she's chosen to wear for the aesthetic. Also, one detail that wasn't in the previews is the fun little laughing devil face on the back of her jacket (I'm not punk rock enough to get the reference if it is one, but it reminds me of Darkdevil):
Of course, always a big priority for me is Daredevil's power-set, and Mattea provides a quick primer on her unique perspective, mostly focused on hearing and the radar sense:
Mattea: "What? You think just 'cause I'm a blind girl, I can't see? Echolocation, my abuelas used to call it. But it's more intimate. Instinctual. Can hear a kick drum from ten blocks away. Can see it too. If I think hard enough, I can even see what the garage it's being played in looks like."
Hobie: "Yo, are you doing it right now?"
Riri: "She's definitely doing it right now."
This is not my favorite description of Daredevil's powers, nor-- to be honest-- a particularly informative one. She can gather spatial information through walls...from ten blocks away? I also never love an overuse of visual language in any explanation of these powers, especially as it's implied that Mattea, like Matt, is completely blind. Surprisingly, no direct mention is made here of the hypersenses as a whole, beyond the reference to hearing a kick drum from ten blocks away. Even her hearing doesn't receive that much attention in the story overall, which feels like a missed opportunity for such a musical character. Her blindness, too, is pretty much irrelevant to the story, and never comes up again. But I do LOVE that she uses the term "echolocation", though is still very clearly the radar sense, in all its vague, undefined, semi-magic glory.
And visually? This is great. I'm always a fan of the cross-hatching visual, especially against a black background, and artist Justin Mason doesn't go too overboard on the detail, which is another preference of mine. And thematically, I love the ways in which Mattea's drummer identity is tied into her superheroics-- not just for laying a beatdown on bad guys, but also for channelling and enhancing her echolocation/radar sense. One of my favorite scenes in the comic is when she plays a drum solo on a roof edge to scope out the Kingpin's lair. I'm willing, in that moment, to ignore any gripes about radar sense irregularities out of respect for the coolness and thematic heft of the concept. I mean, this rocks:
Mattea: "Come on, show me the good stuff."
At the end of the day, though, this is not a Daredevil comic and Mattea is not the main character. Plus, it's only five issues long, and introduces a bunch of other new characters as well. There was only ever going to be room for the creative team to offer a cursory introduction, hopefully generating enough interest to prompt these characters to appear again in other comics. In that, I think they fully succeeded with Mattea; we get a cursory sense of her powers (or at least, enough to show that they're the normal DD set), her personality (delightfully cocky, playful, tough, fearless), a few hints of her backstory, and some truly kickass fight scenes. There's a bit of suspension of disbelief required to believe she can use drumsticks as a stand-in for billy clubs (unless her drumsticks are made of something really hefty-- and hey, maybe they are), but this is Spider-Punk. Hobie killed Norman Osborn with a guitar--twice. It's not about realism, it's about style.
Mattea: "Been waiting for this for a long time, Fisk. Real long time."
Fisk: "I'm going to break you, li'l girl--AWGGH!"
Mattea: "Big, strong man who sends out his band of wackos to push over people too weak to fight back."
Fisk: "Wouldn't get too cocky, girlie...you're not the only one who's fast! I'm gonna hurt ya. A lot. Then I'm gonna kill ya. And I'm gonna love every second of it. You know, this is the same look you had when I had your old band clapped a few years back. I like it. Brings out your eyes--GAAAH!"
Mattea: "There's something you need to understand about me, papi. I'm not the kinda girl who goes down without a fight."
I can't wait to see more of Mattea and learn more about her, her world, her friends, and her enemies. In particular, she seems to have a history (possibly romantic?) with this world's Kamala Khan, and I would love to see more of that relationship. While Mattea Murdock clearly has a lot in common with Matt Murdock, she also seems happy to be a team player, unlike Matt, and I really enjoy that. Though I guess it's not that surprising a distinction. After all, every drummer needs a band.
#Spider-Punk vol. 1#Daredevil#Mattea Murdock#Spider-Punk#Hobie Brown#Spider-Band#Commentary#ID in alt text
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
| bad day? | hawks x reader | fluff/smut/comfort |
-> summary: returning home feeling shitty could only last so long in the presence of takami keigo | warnings: oral (f-receiving), fluff, soft kei 🪽🥰
ever since the clock ticked 5 pm for you, every single cell in your body ranted & whined about being at home. the idol chit-chat, the not-do-idol tasks in hand. people at work who you called your friends, people at work who you’d rather stab yourself than associate with; both, equally… were getting insufferable. it wasn’t anybody’s fault really. that you were getting annoyed by someone’s pace of walking… then again, it was not your fault either.
there are certain times your brain hits the ‘fuck this’ mark. where nothing could subdue the feeling of being broken apart by nothing & everything at once. today was one of those dreading times. your senses were dancing on the brink of actual craze, your head haywired from the information overload. nothing could soothe you.
still… you persisted, waited for your working hours which lasted longer than the most boring conundrum ever.
the icing on the cake was the heavy traffic on your way home. you could swear after taking a painkiller for your migraine that greeted you spitefully, you’d be better. nope — the buzz of the city followed with how claustrophobic and sensitive you felt were only exaggerating the pain in your skull & eyeballs. the pain of a thousand needles piercing your skin.
“fucking hell when will this bloody end god damn it!” you muttered to yourself, waiting impatiently with your index finger tapping on the steering wheel as the atmosphere overwhelmed you even further.
there was however… only one thought that your mind held, which was soothing. a stark contrast with the day you’ve had so damn far. takami keigo. you can’t wait to see him, your mind wants the imagination of you being couped up in his wings to be real — asap!
your reflexes, your body, your soul knew he is your reset. you know keigo would make it better. the perks of it were — he’d actually make everything better without even trying. it’s just his presence that pets you into a solemn place.
after zoning out several times, you managed to reach your shared apartment. hands shivering with gathered tiredness as you unlocked the door and let yourself inside. your bag dropping as your familiar feline companion, keigo’s and yours not so menacing & astoundingly mannerful cat came and greeted you.
unlike your normal, after-work interactions, you couldn’t make a conversation with him just yet, petting him & cooing at him before leaving to the kitchen for something — anything to fill your devilishly hungry stomach with.
without wasting much time, you took out the perfectly sliced fruits from the fridge, forking their way into your empty stomach when you heard the balcony door open. your autopilot mode turning off immediately as you perked up.
“kei? that’s you?”
a familiar, baritone voice echoed from your bedroom. “who else has the balls to enter our bedroom sweetheart,”
you smiled, humming & indulging in your so called dinner. before you heard another question from your man. “y’er okay?”
you blinked, doubtfulness and curiosity as to how keigo can figure you out just like that— immediately quenched when you saw a stray red plume caress your jaw.
“m’ not okay, i had a shitty day & it’s nobody’s fault.” you answered, “i’ve got a headache and i just feel very overstimulated & sensory overloaded y’know?”
ironically, the only thing you heard next was the sound of keigo’s boots approaching you to the drawing room couch. gloved hands tilting your chin up to make eye-contact with his golden pupils, a soft, friendly & familiar smile greeting you. “is that so, baby?”
you looked up, doe-eyed and awestruck at your man. you could never, ever get used to him. him in his hero costume— him as hawks~ then again, you still can’t get used to him as keigo either. he’s just so amazing…
“yeah” being daring enough, you leaned against his chest, feeling the lub-dub of his heartbeat while he tugged one of his gloves off with his teeth, visor neatly pulled up on his blonde waves, taking the other glove off and letting his wings falter to the ground like drapes. “aww — c’mere pretty.”
keigo hugged you, running his hands through your hair and kissing the crown of your head.
“the world’s being especially annoying and a pain in the ass to my girl huh?”
you could sense by the tone of his voice that he was slowly letting his familiarity sink into you. as if he was slowly calling you back from the hell you’ve resided in today.
“mm~ yeah,” you managed to reply, curtly. only because — your mind had already started fading off into bliss the moment you saw your mate, your lover around you.
“i know what could help-” keigo suggested, sounding ultra sincere & exceptionally sure of the sudden idea which had plagued his mind. you gazed back at him with eyes which were complying already.
“let me tend to my girl.” keigo announced, kneeling in front of you, two of his feathers doing the quick work of spreading your legs after keigo quickly tugged your shorts and panties off.
it’s an abomination how flushed you become — being with him since three years, whenever keigo gets his way with you. a deep exhale you didn’t know you held, left frantically from your heaving chest when you saw him pay no mind to any teasing & latch his lips directly at your clit, kissing it softly.
“fuck-” you gasped, looking down at keigo who’s eyes were stern in their determination to prolong their stare with yours.
“yeah, fuck, you’re so delicious baby—” keigo copied your tone, leaning in and swirling his tongue around your clit, spreading your pussy lips apart with his thumbs & latching onto your cunt hungrily. keigo loves to play with his food — normally, he’d tease you by kissing around your cunt, giving hickeys all over your inner thighs, have you soaking wet & desperate for him. not today.
your pleasure was starting to build, it felt like all your emotions though bad, were aiding into it tremendously, melting away, withering away until all that remained was a coil in your pelvis eager to snap.
“fuck— keigo- baby, ah! wanna-” you managed to contort broken sentences, writhing beneath the vigor of keigo’s love, keigo’s torture on you.
“y’ wanna cum baby? my pretty girl wants to cum f’ me?” keigo asked you back, smirking at how frantic & impatiently you bobbed your head in a nod.
“go ahead, i’ve got you sweetie — cum for me.”
as if the gates to a dam had opened, you screamed out, letting go for keigo and spasming beneath him, whining for him. the emotions you held within fading off, releasing into the prickling tears that made your cheek dewy.
soon — your moans turned into quiet sniffles as keigo continued to ride out your orgasm, extending it until your hands meekly pushed him away by the shoulders, indicating your overstimulation.
“i love you, gonna give me another one baby?” keigo asked tenderly, kissing your knuckles.
“mm~ on your cock kei,”
“i gotchu~ baby.”
#hawks bnha#bnha hawks#hawks imagines#hawks#keigo takami#hawks x reader#keigo x reader#hawks thirst#hawks smut#bnha thirst#bnha smut#mha thirst#mha smut#mha x reader#bnha x reader#hawks comfort#bnha hawks comfort#hawks drabble#bnha drabble#bnha comfort#mha comfort#hawks fluff#bnha fluff#mha fluff
376 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm thinking today about many times I played a boy on stage even before I knew I was trans.
There was a non-singing male role in a depression-era musical in high school that was a mechanic, which the director re-imagined as a sort of Rosie the Riveter style butch woman, which I was disappointed I didn't get a singing role, but internally excited they'd chosen me to play what was originally a male role. I was sad they still made me wear lipstick. I remember learning how to tie a tie (for... unrelated reasons), and I was the only one in the cast who knew how to tie one, so I helped all the boys tie their ties backstage. The girls had to show me how to put on make-up.
Later, at a theatre summer camp, I got the opportunity to play a male role as well, and I threw myself into it with much gusto. It was not crucial that this role be played by any gender; it was kind of a narrator role, but I definitely imagined myself as a man while playing the role, which kept me excited and informed my acting choices.
Once I discovered opera, it was Cherubino who really made me obsessed. I watched Kate Lindsey's performances of Non so piu cosa son and Voi che sapete over and over, and brought them to my voice teacher already memorized. I was disappointed to learn that companies almost never cast sopranos (or at least singers with as light a timbre as mine) in that role, or as pants roles in general.
Then, once I started doing opera in college, there were always dance scenes, but given the nature of undergrad opera programs, usually not enough men to have equal dance partners. I really enthusiastically volunteered to wear a male costume and dance with girls. Back then, I thought it was because I was a lesbian (despite the fact that I was already deeply in love with my now husband then?) and the rest of the chorus poked fun at me for being so excited about it.
There are just so many things that I look back on and wonder how I stayed in denial so long.
#trans#transgender#ftm#trans man#ftm trans#opera#musical theatre#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtqia+#theatre kid#musical theater#theater kid#theater
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Captain Marvel & The Switched Minds Trope
Have y'all ever seen that episode of Justice League Unlimited where Lex Luthor switches minds/bodies with the Flash and a whole bunch of shenanigans happen? Yeah, I barely remember it, I need to do a re watch of the show some time, but it gave me a neat little idea.
What if that trope was used for Captain Marvel, with one of three people
Batman
Black Adam
Mr. Mind
If Captain Marvel switches bodies with Batman, imagine the hilarity if it happens while they are out of costume. Billionaire Bruce Wayne suddenly being mind/body swapped into the body of 10 year old homeless kid Billy Batson, and each of them having to navigate a day like that. Bruce wouldn't be happy, but at the very least he'd get a day of returning back to his childhood, getting to be a kid for just a little bit again. Or. We could go for the route where they mind swap while in costume, and Batman in Captain Marvel's body tries to investigate who his secret identity is, all the while hating that Captain Marvel in his body and making himself look like a fool in Gothom. (Which then results in a Batman (Captain Marvel) in Fawcett and and Captain Marvel (Batman) in Gothom. Ohhh, and the delicious angst of when Batman says shazam and finds out about Billy Batson!
If Captain Marvel switches minds with Black Adam, there are just so many fun and dark opportunities to show off just how malicious Black Adam can be once he has his hands on the powers of the Champion of Magic, even if just temporary. He'd wreck havoc and become a tyrant, striking terror into the world and earning the concerned and anger of the Justice League, who are under the impression this is still the real Captain Marvel. Black Adam won't even try to lie and attempt to remove them from his path, but when his fist is met with his own, Black Adam will learn the true meaning of never underestimating your opponent, especially yourself. Could definitely bring in some possibilities like showing off how strong Billy Batson is and a cool identity reveal.
As for Mr. Mind, I'm really interested in seeing a mind swap happen with him. Seeing as how their bodies and selves are drastically different, and how his mind control powers could be a factor in this. Kinda like that Kafka situation, if i remember the name right, there could be some amazing parallels of written well enough.
Billy in Mr. Minds body trying to warn the JL of Mr. Mind's plans, but, he is but a worm. He'd have to rely on using Mr. Mind's monstrous powers to relay the information needed, and maybe get the help of a certain pair of supersons (Tiny worm and tiny super powered children team up). Mr. Mind in Captain Marvel's body would be....
A threat.
Oh, there's also the option of Billy swapping bodies with Lex Luthor. Haha. Now THAT would be a rollercoaster of fun.
Anyways, that's all my thoughts for now, and just me saying that I really want to read/write a fanfiction where Captain Marvel (Billy) mind swaps with someone. Might not have expressed everything that I wanted to say correctly, but it's late right now and I am full of oatmeal, so I'm quite sleepy.
Please send me y'all's thoughts and opinions, I love it when y'all include your own things!
@wolfsbanesparks
especially you wolf, I was gonna send this as an ask to you but it got way too long in the end
#billy batson#dc captain marvel#Shazam#dc comics#Batman#black adam#Mr. Mind#body swap#writing tropes#Writing#Fanfiction idea#lex luthor#body switch#I haven't posted any of my Billy Batson fics on Ao3 yet why am I still making more WIP mountains for myself-#Billy batson is a sweet little baby boy#I just want to make him suffer a little#If you see any spelling errors#No you didnt#Also#Trans Billy is canon Billy to me
149 notes
·
View notes
Note
I can definitely see villains avoiding Flug if it means attracting Goldheart's attention during schemes while others actively try to use it to their advantage.
Villain trying to escape?
Throw something related to Flug on the other side of the street and book it like some would throw a wallet in a mugging.
A picture, phone number, limited merchandise of Flug that Blackhat specifically made only for villain access to throw at GH, a pair of socks that Demencia stole and sold for fun, literally anything.
Golden boi would be zooming.
There's a chance they might not escape but it definitely increases those chances.
The idea that villain merch exists and goldheart trying his best to get it and failing is absolutely hilarious.
@ghostdoodlen
This absolutely is hilarious, 😂.
Villainous Fanfic: GoldHeart developed an addiction to collecting Flug merch and stuff as an unhealthy coping mechanism after he lost his Arch-Nemesis and the photos of his face.
He is in complete denial and says that he doesn't have a hoarding problem if anyone asks, convincing himself that it's for "research purposes".
But he would be zooming like a "golden retriever" if anyone gives him any Flug related thing like his new phone number and sock.
I kinda imagine BlackHat realizes the Villainous Gang are somewhat popular, but not as popular as him, (especially after that Vuala figurine and keychain giveaway) so he decides to profit from this for awhile by releasing action figures only for Black Hat Organization Members, and comes out with new designs and special limited edition ones.
GoldHeart is extremely frustrated because the only way he can get the Flug action figures is to literally sell his soul which is definitely a no-no.
So he would definitely go after the toys if a Villain has it even if it were for an obvious distraction but would then proceed to beat up the Villains for having the audacity to distract him.
Some Villains even try to bribe GoldHeart with Flug limited edition action figures. He would pretend to agree and take the toys then proceed to betray them then beat up the Villains for having the audacity to bribe him.
The Flug action figure GoldHeart wants the most is the rarest "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure.
It's a prototype April Fools edition, where the Villainous Gang is dressed up as heroes.
It's also nearly impossible to find and it's not even in circulation.
GoldHeart would have thought it was a myth or an April Fools prank if he didn't see the promo ad live in The Black Hat Organization website one month in advance before it was wiped out completely from the dark web.
The reason for its rarity is because even though it's for an April Fools joke, BlackHat finds him and his henchman dressing up as heroes disgusting. As a result the promo was removed from the BHO website and mass production of the April Fools toys we're shut down. (BlackHat also tortured the person who thought of the idea).
So only one prototype from the ad exists
...and guess who has it.
When Flug finds out, he pretends to be appalled and not like the action figure. But secretly thought it was cool, and keeps the prototype in his desk drawer in his plane-house.
When the Golden Rule Members infiltrate the Black Hat Manor to gather information about the Villains and steal confiscate any cool dangerous items which can be used for evil if they have time while Black Hat and the Villainous Gang are out.
GoldHeart was extremely ecstatic to find the most prized action figure and last item to complete his collection and proceeds to yoink the item and put it the most safe place, his outer underwear (because P.E.A.C.E. made that part of the uniform nearly indestructible as Villains have a habit of kicking heroes in the crotch)
The action figure also didn't stand out because it was small enough not to be obvious.
Just when they were about to leave, the Villainous Gang came back early, fortunately without BlackHat as he had additional business to attend to and they fought. But the heroes managed to get away.
Flug checked the damage from the fight and looked around the manor to see if anything had been stolen and much to his shock his "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure was missing.
This was confirmed when GoldHeart took a picture of the "Flug in GoldHeart's costume" action figure next to his own action figure made by P.E.A.C.E and sent to Flug's new phone number (which Flug had no idea where GoldHeart got) from with the caption "Matching ☺️".
Flug out of revenge for GoldHeart stealing his stuff, breaking into Hat Manor, and finding out that Flug kept that embarrassing action figure of himself in GoldHeart's costume and continues to tease him relentless for it when ever he sees him, requested the creative team to design an "GoldHeart dressed in Flug's clothes" action figure and release it to the public.
But it had an opposite effect for GoldHeart as he immediately afterwards sent an image with both of their action figures to Flug with the caption "Costume Swap 😉", much to Flug's incredible frustration.
#villainous#villanos#dr flug#dr kenning flugslys#goldheart#gold heart#herbert leth#flug#villainous blackhat#black hat#black hat organization#villainous fanfic#dr flug and goldheart are not brothers
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
Having real fun reading through the backlog of the blog.
I keep wondering if this is the kind of place my trainer would randomly book a tour to. She requires her chair for regular locomotion but has been working on getting a more versatile model. She can be carried by most of her team but would much rather roll herself.
I can't imagine a lot of the island has easy paths for wheelchairs though. That said, she did manage the Hoenn region, though Sinnoh and its unreasonable amount of mountain defeated her. Do you think anyone knowing her physical limitation would try and talk her out of coming?
I can also picture her seeing Peach wrestling a 'mon and pointing it out to her Machoke, going "I told you I wasn't the only one!"
She is also pleased by the don't-send-10'yo's-on-their-own stance. She went through an academy that taught much the same skills (when her parents couldn't talk her out of wanting to do her trainers' journey) and left at 16 with two pokemon, a treeco who picked her, and a Machoke from the school who wanted to make sure such a student was ok.
The Island prides itself on being accessible, theres ramps everywhere, elevators in any buildings allowing public access to higher floors, the hotel is its own buisness but accomodates for this too, rentable mons who can help folks around, and almost everywhere is wheelchair acessible, including any doors being power assisted.
Not only do we at Dotaku deal with A LOT of footfall, we handle a lot of older clientel above and beyond the youngsters, and to top it off, pokemon with disabilities move around the different locations too. The island caters to that, you can even get up to the top of the mountain for the view if you wish, it's been carefully carved out and planned so anyone can visit and have relative ease getting about, though we do advise anyone going up that hill with mobility issues at the vesy least take a pokemon with them to aid should they become tired. We have plenty that are happy to help if visitors dont have a pokemon strong enough too.
You can book a tour with any facility individually if you like, or do a day tour. We have staff leading them regularly, giving visitors informed details about various pokemon and locations. Or, if you prefer to venture alone, its all acessibe and open to the public. There are some buildings of limits but those are clesrly sign posted and overseen by staff and pokemon to make sure no one wanders in and gets hurt, ot ends up in a secure area they shouldnt be.
Dotaku is just one big island park, catering to all. Phone the head office for further details, we have great members of staff always ready to help clear up any questions you may have, and you can even book any specific events ahead of time.
During the summer we have cook outs, independant vendors with hand made trinkets, the kite flying festival which is quite something to watch if not partake in, the migration of the swellow that'll come by, theres lapras sightings this time of year cose to the shores, and at the end of summer the Jumpluff move off the island to go inland for more tame weather, quite a beautiful sight to see so many catching the wind to go home, usually I'll fly with them to the mainland so its a good time to see a handful of dragon types on guard duty. Theres a fair where you can buy local produce, partake in friendly battles to earn some neat reward items, three contests, one for beginners, one is a costume one anyone can enter, and the other is more professional for those who want a challenge, each judged by telented guests who come in from all over. If you need a break our daycare can offer your pokemon respite, theres a groomers on site so a new hairdo might be on the cards too, or just a massage to ease tension. Water based sport is avaiable, with small canoes, boats and gear available to rent if that appeals. Theres the odd talk on pokemon care from our experts, and opportunities to ask questions and dig deeper into some of the pokemon the island handles. Dont forget the dock side fair, if you just want to eat junk food and play some arcade games with your pokemon, more than reasonable to take time for that, grab lunch at the cafe, or just chill out and watch the waves while listening to the Dewgong laid out on the rocks.
On wednesday you can challenge the professors, staff and rangers, we try to give an evening to guests who want to battle us for the fun of it, but none of us use our core teams for saftey reasons, and will pick pokemon based on whoever is close at hand and willing, could be anything. If you win you can get a ribbon bangle, which some enjoy collecting much like badges, though they hold no weight in the league.
Other staff are more than free to fight with their true teams, so predicting their strategy may be easier, but I never will, and will refuse a proper battle with my core group should someone request it, I say this now to save any dissapointment.
I'm sure you'd see me from time to time, but summer is the busy month, plenty to do, so don't mind me if im run off my feet, I do try to show face whenever possible but work comes first. Best bet is to keep your eyes on the skies, youll see the flash of orange and yellow of my dear charizard Boa ferrying me around, and probably get a sense of where I may end up in the day. If you spot Val wandering around, I suggest NOT trying to pet her, many have made this mistake, many have been bitten. Every localised sign has stickers on them reminding people of specific pokemon not to approach or pet. She's on every sign.
Any visitor is given a saftey breifing, and all areas have signs for people to see the rules, as some locations dont allow flash photography, loud noises, or touching of the pokemon.
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
I noticed something. To the best of my (sleep deprived) recollection, I think Robin is the only major/og/classic superhero sidekick (at least in DC) to have a non-derivative identity? Think about it; Wonder Woman has Wonder Girl; Aquaman has Aqualad, Flash has Kid Flash, and Green Arrow has Speedy-- he gets points for the original name but the identity and costume are clearly derivative. (Also, kinda weird that the derivative names are all also diminutive, and Robin isn't.) You'd think he'd have been named Batboy or Batkid or Batlad or even something like Black Bat (Blue Bat?) (I also just realized why Nightwing chose blue for his original costume... Robin's egg blue... Am I slow?)
Meanwhile, aside from being a small flying creature, the Robin identity/moniker is completely different from Batman's, and doesn't even feature a suffix like his does (such as boy/man/lad/etc.) (Thank the gods we didn't end up with Robinlad.) The Robin identity stands alone, even among many major DC heroes... It needs no support or confinement from identifying information such as Woman or Man or Boy or Girl (Imagine if Superman was just The Super... Wonder Woman just The Wonder... Just Aqua... etc. Ew.) It is both unique to Dick, being his mother's nickname for him, and meant for passing on, being gender/age/etc. nonspecific.
Batman and Robin's identities/themes are also completely different... You've got the Dark Knight and the Boy Wonder. Additionally, Robin's costume doesn't have any animal elements-- it doesn't even follow Batman's theme of the costume reflecting the features and/or color palette of the animal namesake. Where's Robin's dumb little beak mask and cape cut like bird wings (Hawk & Dove anyone?) Where did the green and yellow come from? And where are Robin's pants?
So what do we get from this?
Well, from an Arthurian perspective... I really wonder why the hell Kane, Finger, and Robinson made him this way. (Does Robinson being one of the creators have anything to do with it?)
From a mixed Arthurian/Watsonian perspective, maybe Batboy/kid/lad/etc isn't intimidating enough. Unlike most heroes, one of Batman's main strategies is to inspire fear and one of his main appeals is that he's edgy and dark and brooding. But why not Blue Bat then? Why a wee little songbird? (I know they were trying to soften Batman's image by adding Robin but still, they weren't trying to make him lil songbird soft.) Why the Boy Wonder, why the goofy (but iconic) color scheme and (I ask you again) why no pants?
OKAY I WANTED TO LEAVE THAT THEORIZING IN BUT I DID SOME RESEARCH AND:
Robin is DC's first sidekick. In fact, as far as I could find, Robin is THE FIRST superhero sidekick. It's not that Robin's creators were shaking things up with their sidekick... It's that most of the creators of sidekicks with derivative identities were being lazy. RIP.
Anyway, a Watsonian perspective (because let's be honest, what we care about is the implications on story and character,) and this is where it gets good... Maybe Bruce a. didn't want Dick to turn out anything like him, and b. wanted Dick to have the opportunity to develop his own identity, not living in the shadow of The Bat. We see other sidekicks struggling with not being The Real Thing... Thinking they're never quite as good as the original, always living in the shadow of their hero. Bruce was never asking Dick to be just like him-- that's the last thing he'd want.
Bruce was never the best father, but maybe, just maybe, he got this one thing right.
#dc#batman#robin#dick grayson#dc comics#bruce wayne#batfam#dc headcanon#dc theory#sidekicks#mine#butredd
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Thrill That Emerges: Episode 1
Characters: Leo, Mika, Shu
Season: Winter
Mika: Sorry I made ya wait, Anzu-chan.
Ya weren't waitin' long at all? That's good, then.
Ah, ya brough me a drink? Thanks♪
So, what did ya wanna discuss? New work?
Nnah? It's Oshisan's turn t' to a feature live!?
I see~! I finally get to see Oshisan's solo live. I'm so happy, I've been lookin' forward to it fer ages♪
Hm? ...Ya want me t' help ya come up with an idea?
Come t' think of it, when we were talkin' about the special costume, didn't Anzu-chan come t' ask me what Oshisan's costume would look like.
...Maybe this time Anzu-chan could think up a couple of stage plans and Oshisan can pick between 'em.
.........
Nnah~...But if I say selfish stuff like that it might cause trouble fer Anzu-chan.
Can't we let Oshisan make the feature live from scratch?
When it came t' the special costume. we didn't have enough time and budget, so Anzu-chan and I thought up the ideas, and Oshisan finished it?
Of course, it was real beautiful too.
I got emotional when I saw the ideas we came up with were put into Oshisan's hands, and turned out to be even more amazin' than we imagined.
But... That's why I wanted t' see a solo live that Oshisan created from start to finish all by himself.
...Anzu-chan? Do what I say?
This time we got a lotta time... And Anzu-chan also wants t' see a solo live made by Oshisan from scratch?
Then, yer hearin' out my selfishness?
I'm so happy Anzu-chan said that! Thank ya kindly...♪
Ah, 'course. If ya get in trouble I'll help, so ask me anythin', kay?
Even though we got more time than before, I think we're askin' a lot from Oshisan this time.
I think it'll be tough, but we'll leave it to Oshisan♪
Shu: Hello, girl? The information that you sent about the feature live has come through just fine.
But... Is this everything?
The special costume has been attached, but it seems there's no information to see regarding the idea.
On the contrary, the scale of the lives performed by Valkyrie in the past and the stages that could be reproduced with the expected budget were summarized.
Hm? As opposed to the special costume, with the feature live we have more time.
However, instead of proceeding like last time, I wish to discuss with you the solo live I want to perform.
I understand your train of thought. In other words, you're saying it would be better this time if I were to make the stage from scratch as I please.
Fortunately, I have no urgent work or plans for a group exhibit. It seems I can use my time for the feature live to my heart's content.
...Though even without being told, there are limits to the time and budget, that much I understand.
Ha. As I continue my career in fine arts, those two things will always follow.
...However, creating great art requires appropriate compensation.
Knowing everything, you wanted to see a feature live created by Shu Itsuki, did you not?
In that case, I will do to just that.
Let's have a detailed meeting this weekend once I return to Japan. Until then I'll collect some ideas.
...Hm? Is there something else?
Aah. I'm also aware of the pamphlet photography. I'll think of a situation for that too.
Well then, I'll get to work.
...What is it? If you're busy then spit it out.
"Please let me learn a lot this time"?
Hmph. I'm telling you I have no intention of teaching you.
If you want to learn, then watch and learn, but don't get in my way.
Yes. Alright, I'm hanging up.
(A feature live, hm. Although there are many restrictions, a solo live is valuable.)
(Also, this time she said she would accommodate my request to some extent. I can't afford to miss this opportunity.)
Kakaka, I'll start devising ideas right away.
Leo: Wahaha☆ Shu looks happy~!
Shu: Gyaa!?
Leo: Ooh! When was the last time I saw Shu surprised like that?
Ah, it's been too long since I've been this inspired! Wait a sec while I write this down!
Shu: Tsukinaga! When did you sneak in!
Or rather, if you're going to be here, don't yell! It's incredibly childish to surprise someone and enjoy their reaction!
Leo: Ah~ When I first came here, you often got angry like that! Yep, the melody is close to nostalgia...♪
Shu: You don't listen, as usual...
Whatever. At any rate, I suppose you came here again without a cause.
Leo: I do have a cause~? I came to get motivation from Shu! And now you've motivated me so I'm satisfied!
Shu: If you're done then go home. I want to concentrate on work.
Leo: Is that what you were talking about on the phone earlier, a live or something? Were you talking to Anzu~?
Shu: Not just any live, a feature live.
Leo: Hm~? Have I heard that somewhere?
Shu: You probably have. I can't pinpoint when, but your turn is yet to come.
...No, in your case, it's likely you're just forgetting.
Put simply, it's my solo live.
Leo: It's not Michael and Shu's performance, but just Shu's~!
How nice! I'm getting really inspired now!
Shu: I don't feel bad about having expectations, I'm just pursuing my own art as usual.
Leo: Yeah, I think that's a good thing. It's interesting to see the things Shu creates.
The things Shu creates have started changing this past year, I'm looking forward to seeing what the current Shu is going to do for his own live!
Shu: That's natural. Just like you, I've also received various influences in this foreign country.
My art is improving and my expression is expanding. This feature live is a great opportunity to make use of.
Leo: Yup. I'm rooting for you~
Well, it's probably harder for Anzu, who has to go through with consulting Shu. There are times when Shu can be really fickle about a lot of things.
Shu: It's unacceptable for the art I create to be even a little disorderly. I'm a very particular artist.
(...In any case, in order to go through with the plan, I need to communicate with that girl.)
(Even if it's for consolation, perhaps it's better to do what you can.)
16 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mafroms7u7
Maffy
ijustwanttogoblind
i just want to go blind
downeystarkjr
JOKER STARK
m39secret
Unbetitelt
rubberpervert
RUBBERPERVERT