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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 3 years

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Infatuation P11

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Warnings: Violent scene description, death.

Notes: Wow, this seems really out of nowhere to post. Anyway 🤪 I don’t want this sitting in my drafts anymore so I’m going to let you all know if I edit it before the next update. Just... take it.

I spent the better half of the day looking over my shoulder as I worked. Candace’s sudden reappearance isn’t going to be swept under the rug just like that... she’s a dead girl walking and I’ve never been a fan of the zombie genre.

By the time I was counting the money from the cash register, Love seemed to have grown a smile. Though, I could still see the sleep deprivation in her eyes.

“Will,” She leaned forward on the counter, perching her head up on her hand. “could we do something tonight?”

At that moment, I really wish I could’ve said yes. But... I couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“Maybe another night? I’m...” I thought quickly, placing coins down and counting.

“We need to talk.” She leans forward to catch my sight. About what exactly, I want to ask but before I can even get a word out, Forty walks in with his mouth open.

“Will, would you be a doll and help me with something.”

I don’t say anything, only thinking to myself: why here and now? Forty has some of the worst timing... and then I spot Candace. Right behind Forty, with a white smile I hated to see.

“Oh, Will. This is Amy.” Love gestures toward Candace and my stomach turns and probably does some flips while it’s at it. If I wasn’t so used to staring into the face of death, I would of probably thrown up by now.

But, there’s no way.

“She’s Y/N’s friend.” Forty finishes. I bite the inside of my cheek. No fucking way she’s here unprompted. I’ve been so incredibly meticulous about everything including my online presence.

I look to Love’s face and she seems to spot something.

“Are you okay? You look kind of pale.” What? She’s not going to ask if I’ve seen a ghost?

“Yeah— no, yeah. I’m alright.” I smile wide, wiping my brow as I do. “It’s just—“ I turn to ‘Amy’. “Is Y/N still in town?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.” She looks me in the eye. For a moment, I feel myself crack under the pressure.

Hold me back, I might just kill her now.

“What do you mean?” Love looks to her.

“I was supposed to pick her up the other day, but she hasn’t responded to my messages since.” Candace looks at me with those dead soulless eyes of hers.

So, she’s the mysterious driver. When did she start driving that type of car? Since she’s decided to pursue a career in stealthily ruining my life?

What the fuck am I going to do about her and what the hell am I going to do about you?

“Will,” Love suddenly says, bringing the conversation back and snapping me out of my thoughts. “didn’t you see Y/N?”

“Y— no. No, I know it was late by the time I got there, but I passed a bus on my way.” I remember the way your soft face felt in my hand. “Could she have taken public transport? Maybe a cab?”

“I highly doubt it.” Candace replies immediately. I’m sweating, but I’m trying not to lose my cool.

I finally finish sorting through the change, no doubt making some mistakes. But with that done and out of my way, I need an excuse to slip through the cracks.

“Listen, I’m sure she’s just disappearing again. You’ve told me she’s done it before, I don’t see why she wouldn’t do it again.”

Love shifts around, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m calling Lucy.”

And there she goes. Love leaves the room after her statement, and I know she’s feeling worse. Why did you even bother coming back? You’ve literally disrupted everything in our lives... it’s going to be difficult to fix, Y/N. There’s no simple way around this, we just have to make it through alive.

Love remained in another room at Anavrin until it closed and the street lights turned on. She quietly spoke into her phone, observing the floor pathetically.

She spoke with Lucy openly, though she avoided the topic of your sudden disappearance.

The conversation eventually dies down, and she says her goodbyes.

“I need to show you something.”

Love sets down her phone and looks to Amy. She hadn’t noticed her enter the room.

“You surprised me. What is it?”

She continues once Love’s attention is on her. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but do you mind if we discuss it in the car?”

And just as expected, Forty’s one-off comment about needing help wasn’t easily forgotten by himself. I was dragged out of Anavrin rather quickly. Though, in a way, I appreciated the easy excuse to get away from such a venemous snake as Candace.

Forty never let up, no matter how obvious I made my lack of care, he remained just as motivated and just as annoying.

“Listen, this is probably my most prestigious and ambitious project to date.” Forty’s arm swings itself over my shoulder, bringing me in as he repeats the same garbage he always does. I’m glad to see that spirit remains.

“They’re wanting to make it into a movie, can you believe that?” Forty’s arm lifts itself, only to fall down on my shoulder like a pat on the back.

“I’d love it if you could... you know... help me out. A genius writer isn’t a genius without their ghost writers!”

That’s... not what that is, but I get his point.

When I looked at him, his eyes were wide and his bottom lip stuck out comically. He was pouting? No, it’s more of a puppy dog look. The lazy man’s pretty please.

I should have time for this, even if I’d rather stop by the nearest gas station and get you dinner.

“Earth to Will, I need you focused!”

Love wraps her arms around herself, feeling very out of place.

Amy continues to fumble with the lock, until she hears a click. She perks up and gives Love a nod.

The storage lockers were easy to access, surprisingly so. But none of this felt right.

“Wait.” Love says suddenly, halting all movement. “I don’t want to do this.”

“But you’re just a door away. Please, Love, you’ll want to see this side of him.” Amy pleas.

What side of him? The side that owns this locker she so happened to know about?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t care for it either.” Love says, though she looks unsure of herself as she fiddles with her bag. Perhaps a part of her would rather be unaware of something as vile as Any had dared describe in the car.

“Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Thats coming from someone with bold claims.” Love retorts. She catches herself for a moment, seeing a glimpse of someone she repressed long ago. She’s not that person anymore, she swore to herself she never would be.

Despite Love’s reluctance, Amy lifts the door up and pockets her bobby pin.

Hearing the doors roll up, you had expected Joe to step in. But he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you jumped at the image of Love and Amy, pinching yourself to truly believe they were really standing there.

You wanted to speak, to shout, to cry out... but your voice was far too gone. Your throat was hoarse and bone-dry.

“Oh my god.” Amy hurried, observing you inside the glass box. “You’re still alive— she’s still alive!”

Love remained silent, her jaw hung open in utter disbelief. Will... Will had told her you left.

He lied? Or Amy isn’t who she says she is.

But why would he? It... it must’ve been for a good reason, right? Will isn’t this kind of person, right? Maybe— maybe he got himself into something. Love clutched her keys between her fingers, her knuckles turning white as she focused her burning stare into the back of Amy’s head.

“Y/N. Can you hear me?” She says, hitting the glass.

You’re barely responsive, a mixture of dehydration and lack of nutrition hitting you all at once. The sheer excitement from seeing them took a lot out of you.

“We’ll get you out of there.” Amy states, turning her head to face Love.

Love jumps at her sudden movement, grip shaking as she stares into Amy’s eyes.

“Help me, would you?”

Love slashed her keys in Amy’s direction and she tumbles back. Without a second thought, Love does it again, this time catching her straight in the neck.

For a moment, Love realizes what she’s done. With the way you began to pound on the glass and the look of complete and utter fear Amy is giving her, it’s kind of hard not to. Love stares at her keys, stuck inside the side of Amy’s neck as a thick stream of blood flows downward. She grips her own neck, holding tightly as her mouth puckers like a fish out of water.

Amy doesn’t want her to pull them out—the keys- and Love notices that. But she does. She yanks the keys toward herself and watches Amy slap her hands down around her own throat.

She’s silent, surprisingly silent despite the gurgling.

Love watches Amy hit the ground and crawl toward her feet, all the while a pool of blood forms beneath herself.

When Love looks toward you, you’re curled up in the corner of your glass cage, arms covering your eyes as sobs shake you violently. She didn’t want you to witness this side of her, truly. But even more so, she had never wanted it to come out again.

However, Amy was a threat to the three of you. Love knew you were locked up somewhere, how could she not? She knew that Will— Joe- had done this in the past, but it could be different now— it could be better. A private detective isn’t just for show. But Amy didn’t have to get involved— didn’t have to go sniffing around and finding your location before she could.

When she notices you peek past your elbows, she feels her gut clench at the sight of the way you cower at the sight displayed by her feet. Watching someone bleed out is hardly a pretty sight and Love understands.

Knowing full well that she can’t turn back, Love wipes her keys and drops the rolled up door.

#you #joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #love Quinn #love quinn x reader #forty Quinn #netflix you #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader

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shotowoki · 3 years

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PAIRING: shouto todoroki x gn!reader WARNINGS: fluff, swearing, kissing, mutual-pinning, implied nsfw, pretty much just fluffy goodness :) WORDCOUNT: 4k

SYNOPSIS: Being roommates out of sheer convenience shouldn't have been a problem. It shouldn't have been as difficult as Shouto had made it out to be. I mean, you two barely spoke, barely found time to be together in one room and barely even came in contact with one another despite living under the same roof. It really should have been a piece of cake. But the feelings Shouto had for you grew larger with every day that passed, complicating things far more than was necessary...

In an empty room, Shouto lay sprawled on his bed. The thought of you conquering his mind as he envisioned you in your entirety.

The lazy slither of moonlight that pierced his curtains left a gentle glow across his face, the sorrow in his eyes highlighted as he pondered over the same thing he did every night. Who were you?

It seemed like a stupid question on the outside, as to those who didn't know you two well, you seemed like good friends. After all, you did live together; it would be harder to know nothing about the other. But, in Shouto's case, he knew near nothing about you. So, every night he lays in his sheets, frustrated with his lack of knowledge, listing all the things he did know. As he balled the covers under him, intertwining his fingers with the cotton, he asked himself one thing: 'who were you?', once more.

There were a few vague things he knew. He knew you worked as an office assistant, finished your work off late at night in the kitchen, took around 45 minutes in the shower, you rarely ate food at home, and brought take out every other evening. Not to mention, you barely left your room and thus leading to this lack of relationship between you two.

But what did this random trivia on you do for him? Nothing. It provided him with zero useful information, nothing to work with, and it most certainly did not quench his curiosity for you.

A heavy exhale parted his lips, and he sunk deeper into his mattress. Maybe this was enough for today. The constant worrying about you wasn't doing him any good, and he knew it. At this point, his curiosity was turning into something more. Before Shouto knew it, his once frustrated wonders had turned to admiration. And this was his current situation, face feeling hot as reality hit him like a train. When did he start to like you, and more specifically, why?

That empty feeling filled him once more; the lack of answers to all these questions had him feeling beyond exhausted. He barely knew you, and yet even moments like these felt like enough. A small rush of nervousness always stopping him in his tracks whenever the sheer thought of you crossed his mind. It felt ridiculous and brought Shouto way too much humiliation. And so, he shook these feelings off. The mystery that was you was far beyond his reach, and it was time he submitted to that fact.

Fluttering his eyelids shut, he put his mind at rest, drifting off into dreamland.

The next day had arrived, Shouto's previously exhausting night already long passing him. A wet towel swung over his head; he exited the bathroom somewhat wet, and ready for a new day.

A cold shower did the job alright, waking him up and helping him forget about the endless thoughts of you that had him up late last evening. All that remained was to fill his stomach up, and he would forget the whole ordeal. Still slightly embarrassed at the realization that he had caught feeling for the stranger that lived in the room opposite his own.

Scrubbing his hair and patting his face dry with the towel on his head, he entered the kitchen. He expected it to be empty like every other regular morning. But instead, Shouto was greeted with arguably the worst and best thing. There you sat at the kitchen island, eyeing a cup of coffee, evidently zoned out.

Shouto stopped in his tracks, and his heart dropped to his stomach. If it was even achievable, the beating of his heart was more rapid than humanly possible and probably more audible than ever. Why were you home? Not that he was complaining, it was just rare to have you home this early in the morning. Did you not have work today? Did something happen? Why are you just sitting there staring at a cup? All these questions sprung up in Shouto's head as he stood dumfounded and nervous.

His cheeks lightly sprinkled in a pink blush; he just stood there awkwardly, not daring to even move an inch. To anyone but himself, he would look pretty composed, but internally he was malfunctioning. He had hoped for a moment like this to arise for a while now. But now that the opportunity had presented itself, he barely knew what to do. It didn't help the fact he was already a flustered mess over the thought of you last night, and now there you sat in front of him.

Taking one deep breath, Shouto resumed his walk to the fridge, waving off the nerves that had built up inside him.

"Good morning, y/n. It's rare to see you home at this time." Shouto attempted to break the silence in his signature monotone voice.

It remained pretty tranquil for a bit. The only noise being that of Shouto making himself breakfast and the sound of you taking a shy sip of your drink.

"Morning. I don't have work today, so I'm home."

Your voice simmered out into the atmosphere, but it remained looping in Shouto's mind. As his back faced you, he felt his ears get hot, and he knew for a fact, he was beet red now. How did just hearing your voice already throwing him off guard?

Shouto gently exhaled, feeling his adrenaline spike through him. He just needed to stay calm. But how could he when he wasn't accustomed to hearing your voice, especially when you spoke so softly? Having a crush on your roommate was most certainly an inconvenience, as Shouto struggled to keep his concentration on making a simple cup of coffee for himself.

"Oh. Did you finally get a day off?" Luckily Shouto's voice came out calm. He'd be damned if he stumbled and made himself look more like a fool than he already had.

Well, he looked like a fool to himself, at least. You barely took notice of the random pauses his whole body made or the way he would occasionally take self-soothing deep breaths. If anything, you wouldn't even know if this type of behavior was unusual for him since you saw him so rarely.

Come to think of it, you don't even have a baseline to work with when judging his overall character. That's partially due to the fact you two have never actually sat down and bonded, which led an idea to spark off in your mind.

"Yeah, it's my first day off in a while." You spoke in a slightly more upbeat tone now, excited for the proposition you were about to make. "So, since I'm home, how about we hang out and get to know each other properly." You smiled his way, tilting your head slightly as you awaited his response.

And just as the suggestion escaped your mouth, Shouto made the unfortunate mistake of turning around, his surprised expression out on display as he was yet to process what you just had said.

"Um, sure." is all Shouto was able to say. His heart thumped out of his chest, and his words knotted up in his throat.

The sudden proposition you offered him had him speechless. All these sudden coincidences being the last thing Shouto expected. Was it all too sudden, perhaps? Either way, he wasn't going to deny the opportunity at hand because who knew when you would be free again. Finally, this was his chance to answer the question that has been keeping up at night. And somewhat address these feelings that had started manifesting.

"Then, I was thinking... maybe we could have a movie night?" You chirped, leaning over the counter in excitement.

"You know, there's this movie my coworkers have been talking about, and I've really been wanting to watch."

For the first time, Shouto got to see you relish in your interests. A cute smile curling the corners of your lips as you spoke, rambling about this so-called movie. He couldn't help but smile at your bubbly nature, getting lost in the expressions you were making that he has never before seen. The way your eyes lit up and your hands waved around as you tried convincing him to watch the movie. Little did you know, you didn't need to convince him of anything, he would agree to watch anything with you. But he wasn't going to burst your joyful bubble now. He wanted to savor this moment, and so he let you speak whatever was on your mind, just burning this moment into his memory.

Dazing at your soft lips as you spoke, he realized how zoned out he had become; your speech becomes just a faint murmur in the back of his mind as all he could think about was how much more beautiful you looked up close.

"Ah, sorry! I completely went on a tangent there. I tend to do that when I get excited. I'm sorry!" You giggled while exaggeratingly facepalming yourself.

And with that, he was once more snapped back into reality. What were you just talking about? Aside from the mention of a movie night, Shouto couldn't remember much else. He couldn't have retained anything that fell from those pretty lips of yours. And down the gutter, his thoughts went once more. The overwhelming flustering feeling washed over him as he realized what ideas exactly he was having right in front of you. He needs to hurry up and respond to you rather than just standing there aimlessly staring at your lips.

"Don't worry about it. You look cute anyways when you're so excited about something." Those words left Shouto so fast he could barely believe he had said them himself. The humiliation already settling itself as he cursed himself for being such a creep.

The sudden affection from your roommate had you stuttering. You have had your eye on him ever since you moved in together. What was there not to like about him? He was good-looking, always left food out for you, and cleaned the apartment before you got back from work. The only issue was you. You were far too shy to admit to these feelings, your one solution being to lock yourself up in your room and avoid him like the plague. Today just so happened to be the exception as you felt a tad bit confident when he nonchalantly (as you perceived it) walked into the kitchen.

Now a compliment of this magnitude was the last thing you expected, and so your insides burnt hot as you shifted in your seat.

"Sorry! I didn't mean for it to come out that way." The concern in his voice was more than evident, the furrowing of his brows in frustration delivering his apology clearly.

"No-no, it fine! Really."

"What I was trying to say was that a movie night sounds great!" Shouto bopped his head down as he managed to completely fuck up this one opportunity that he had. To him, it seemed as though he had ruined everything, but if anything, he had succeeded a lot more than he gave himself credit.

You were still giddy at his subtle compliment, heart racing at the fact he called you cute. CUTE. Failure should have been the last thing on Shouto's mind as if he observed you a little more closely, he would have noticed the satisfactory grin on your face.

"Great! I'll meet you in the living room at 5 pm then." You hoped out of your chair, putting your empty cup away.

You definitely wanted to stay with him longer, but you needed to calm yourself down. The knots in your stomach tightening by the second as you felt flustered by his presence.

"Right."

Gently, you squeezed past him as you exited the kitchen, the cozy heat that radiated from his body sending goosebumps down your skin. Even with a touch so short-lived, you couldn't help but freak out. How would you manage this evening? Only future you will know the answer to that question.

As quickly as you parted ways, the evening arrived just as fast. A golden sunset burst through the living room window and drizzled the atmosphere in sweet honey. A soft breeze floated through as Shouto sat anxiously waiting for you.

His outfit was bland, but it was expected of him. Just a pair of generic grey sweatpants paired with a white tee. As stated previously, his attire was very bland. But it was comfy, to say the least.

Just on time, you finally met him at your designated period. Your heart hammered out your chest, not only from the nervous itch that was being with your crush, but the possibility of this all being awkward. It felt like meeting a stranger, only with an odd sense of familiarity attached. Maybe then calling him a stranger would be a poor analogy. Perhaps it was more like being left alone with that person your friend was trying to introduce you to. Yeah, that's a better parallel for how this all felt right now. However, it all still felt rather exciting.

"Hi! Are you ready?" You giggled as you sunk into the couch, sitting beside him.

"Definitely. What's the movie called again, y/n?" The way your name so easily fell from his lips set off the butterflies in your stomach.

It sounded so pretty coming from him, way prettier than you could have prepared yourself for. Suddenly, you found yourself speechless, mind going blank as you fished for the name of the movie you knew.

"U-um, it seems my mind has gone blank. Give me a second."

Rubbing your arm in an attempt to calm yourself, you let out your signature laugh. The golden hue of the sun stirred the color of his heterochromatic eyes as you glanced back at them, still thinking of the name of the movie you knew just a second ago. Attentively, his eyes examed you, and you managed to catch sight of this glance.

"Don't worry, take your time." With that, his eyes shot back up meeting yours. "Do you happen to be cold? You're rubbing your arm."

That explained his gaze, but it didn't happen to settle the nerves inside you. And in your flustered state, you responded with the first thing that came to mind as you swatted your hand to your side.

"Ah, yeah! It's a bit chilly with the window open in here."

Right on cue, Shouto reached for the blanket on the sofa, wrapping it snuggly over your shoulders. The way his slender fingers brushed against your skin as he positioned the fabric on you made you freeze. You could barely hear yourself think as your heart ran wild, adrenaline surging your veins. His face was so close, so close you could see how his eyelashes softly brushed his cheeks with every blink. Fast, it all happened so fast, and yet the memory replayed in slow motion in your mind. The way he just swept in and then back out.

"There. If it gets too cold I'll close the blind." He smiled at you comfortingly before reaching for the remote.

You couldn't do anything but sit there wide-eyed, your nervousness being unbearable.

"The movie... I can't remember its name." Finally, you admitted defeat, done battling your mind that was clearly not regaining composure any time soon.

"That's fine. I guess we can just watch whatever piques our interest for now. There's always next time."

There's always next time. The implication of another hang-out was soothing. Knowing that this wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity managed to quiet you down slightly as you repositioned yourself to sit more comfortably on the sofa.

"Right!" You beamed in agreement, turning your attention to the tv.

The mindless scrolling through Netflix lasted a while as you made conversation with one another. Talk of how most movies were boring filled your discussions, exchanging laughter here and there too. It all felt so reassuring, and both of you were starting to feel more relaxed. Movie after movie, it felt like you were about to hit a dead end until you eventually landed on something intriguing.

"This one! This one looks good, right?" You explained, pointed to the digital screen that gently lit up your faces.

"Right, it doesn't sound bad."

Shouto was beginning to uncover you and your character a lot better now. Seeing as you got excited about the most random things, but also the way you were so easily caught off guard. It put a soft smile on his face as he just admired you silently.

The movie began to play, the two of you settling down as the noises from the tv exclaimed through the speakers. To say that Shouto was happy was an understatement. Looking back on the evening from just last night to now was a huge shift, and a huge shift in the direction he could have hoped for. It was the start of something he had been wishing for long while now.

Hearing you laugh at the actors on screen, turning to face him as you shared the humours moments with him had him feeling all gooey inside. Lightly, your leg would occasionally brush past his, making him more than eager to pull a move on you. Fuck it, right? Apparently, Shouto couldn’t just have his cake, he wanted to eat it too.

You were far too cute in this moment, nudging on him softly as your laugh radiated through the air. And so, in a moment when his adrenaline spiked and clouded his judgment, he snaked an arm over you shoulder, cradling you into his chest. You gave into his invitation, resting against him.

Not to say you were all calm about the exchange, you were in fact the complete opposite. It was really happening, you were laying in Shouto’s toned arms, his fingers gently gliding up and down your forearm as he sunk down onto the couch. Laying himself down and then you on top of him.

Was Shouto calm about this, then? Definitely not. His hearts rapid beating was audible as you rested your head on his chest. Smiling hazily as you realised he was just as nervous about all this as you.

As he lay under you, you soaked in his touch, the way his toned figure felt as your hands snaked around his waist. And the way his breathing gently cascaded a chilly breeze down your neck, shivers forming along your soft skin. Ever smooth shift and touch his body made against yours was thrilling.

At this point you weren’t even concentrated on the movie, and instead on the boy under you. The movie acting more as background noise to the thing you really wanted to watch. Glancing up at his soft features, the way his plump rosy lips were slightly parted as his eyes shifted across the screen. Oh how you wanted to kiss him in this moment. What was holding you back exactly?

You could lean any minute if you just so pleased.

“Shouto?” You finally spoke up, interrupting the tranquility between you two.

His response was a simple hum, eyes falling to meet yours. The way he held eye contact, smiling at you invitingly was enough to have anyone falling for him. You felt extremely lucky to be even given the chance to be in this position with him.

“Can I?” You started, lifting yourself up slightly.

“Can you?”

He quirked a brow at you as he sat up to meet your movement. Trapped under you as your two legs straddled his lap, you gave him a sheepish smile. A short moment passed without a response, and Shouto smiled at you suspiciously, leaning in to jokingly examine your face.

“What’s on your mind?”

At his unannounced actions you glanced away, but Shouto only pulled your chin to look back at him. A smirk growing on his face before his palm came to cup your cheek; his other hand resting nonchalantly on your thigh.

And like he knew exactly what you were thinking, with a light brush of his thump against you bottom lip, he dipped in for a kiss.

His plump lips meeting yours. Soft, they felt so soft as they moulded perfectly with yours, meting against the other. The tender way his lips hovered for a second as he pulled away, licking his lips and then coming back in. Glazing you in his touch, he began to move again, taking in one of your lips at a time, relishing in your sweet taste. The way his lips massaged yours with every move he made had you pressing yourself into him.

It felt relieving in a way, finally dining the dish you’ve been craving for so long. After all these months you two have lived together, finally you both were holding each other like you have been wanting. Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers weaving throw his hair as you yearned for more.

Your plush tongue came to meet his, intertwining with the other. Happily, he ventured your mouth, taking in every inch of you. Smoothly dragging his tongue to the root of your mouth then pulling himself out, until he came back in once more to suck you back in.

The only think separating you two being the string of spit that drizzled off each other’s tongues as you caught your own breaths between each embrace. Your merciful moans he swallowed, his delicate hands travelling up your spin. They left a cold trail, fireworks erupting your stomach as the adrenaline of this all began seeping in.

You two were getting too carried away, but it just goes to show how bad you wanted one another. Shouto, however, wanted to clear things up before you continued any further.

He pulled away breathily, blinking at you with delight in his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and i’m sorry if this is sudden. But, I like you.”

That sentence alone had you more flustered than your previous touches and you smiled like a kid with candy.

Was this a dream come true? Maybe it was, which in that case, you definitely didn’t want to wake up. But, lucky for you, this was in fact reality.

“I like you too, silly” You giggled only inches away from his face, and the instant grin that sprawled across his lips was the only confirmation you needed.

Instantly, he engulfed you in a tight hug, his head cradling itself into the crook of you neck.

“Then how about we finish this off in my bedroom now that you’re all mine.” Was the last thing he said, his lips resuming their bidding on the soft skin in your neck.

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aizawa-needs-coffee · 3 years

Note

ANGER 5# and Dabi please? yandere is fine too!

I did some light yandere as you didn't say if you'd like NSFW or not. I hope you like!

Pair: Dabi x GN Reader Slight yandere themes word count: 895

I didn't proof read because I'm a soulless monster.

You couldn’t recall the exact moment you had decided to join the LOV but you could remember the exact moment you regretted it. At first the group seemed like a safe place to have feelings that didn’t fit with the social norm of hero worship, a place for those so sick and tired of glorifying people lucky enough to be born with powerful quirks and an inflated self-worth.

Good and bad wasn’t black and white, where was the justice? Every time the news was on and some half brain idiot covered in muscles would stand there spouting their supposed justice would make bile rise in your throat.

Maybe the group had started off like that but it seemed like a different world now, you’d not understood how dangerous this group was but your bitter anger at society out weighed the fear of what these people were capable of. Better to be on their side then against and maybe, just maybe the true heart and premise of their ideals remained deep down.

But at the surface level it had become rotten, a collection of people with the worst issues and mentally all mixed into one dangerous concoction. You kept your head down, did every mission without complaint and a nod of your head. You looked the most normal of everyone in the group and passed as a normal everyday person, people couldn’t read the bitter spite on your face when you wove in and out of the masses on a day to day, you fit into the background seamlessly.

A perfect choice for surveillance.

The moment you realized you had made the grave, the irreversible mistake to become part of the league wasn’t long after you’d joined. Sat at the bar being briefed by Shigaraki about something, you didn’t remember, it had seemed important at the time.

Dabi sat at one of the booths, a slowly growing collection of empty glasses amassing on the table, one arm folded and his face propped up with the other, the way his eyes roamed over you as you tried your best to pay attention to the leader had bothered you. Dabi hadn’t said more then a few words to you since you’d joined but the way he was simply leering at you now made you an uncomfortable mix of annoyed and creeped out.

As soon as you were excused you pushed the stool away from the bar, a screech in your desperation to make a quick getaway got everyone’s attention, at that moment you wished the floor would open up and eat you because now Dabi knew the haste in which you wanted to escape was because of him.

And the sick satisfied smirk on his face made you cringe outwardly, you didn’t need to pretend to like him, he wasn’t your boss, he was some psycho loner in a trench coat and a bad attitude. Dabi chuckled low and gravely, you couldn’t recall hearing him amused at any point and you didn’t like it. He approached you before you could get to the door to save yourself, the way he absolutely sauntered up to you had your skin crawling.

“Yes?” You cut him off, not letting this smug prick have the satisfaction of being the first to talk, to be allowed to intimidate you.

Your hand grabbed the door handle, gripping it hard, you hoped and preyed Dabi didn’t see how white your knuckled turned. This asshole may have a strong quirk but his attitude was no different then a pompous hero. Entitled and overpowered, the very thing that they should be against here at the league.

He got so close to you now, you could smell the alcohol on his breath, his body touching yours as he pressed himself closer, you stood your ground, trying to stare him down but the lazy smirk on his face showed how little you did to scare him.

Dabi leaned in, his breath tickling your ear, feeling the very heat of him roll over you in waves, engulfing you, making you sweat. Still you didn’t move, once you gave someone like this an inch, they would take a mile.

“Move out of my way before I make you.” He whispered, so soft and smooth but the venom from the words themselves hit you in the face worse than the heat of his being.

Your heart hammered in your chest but still you kept your expression level, challenging him as you pulled the door open, bumping into him on purpose before nodding for him to go first. “After you”

The way he looked you over, an eyebrow raised at the sheer audacity you had to stand your ground against someone as strong as him, who were you? Some pretty little no body with a basic quirk that couldn’t scare a child was who. He chuckled and walked past you, cocking his head to the side to look you over once more, lingering on your face, a silent challenge.

God you felt like you were going to burn alive under that stare, those bright blue eyes as dangerous as the flames he could destroy you with. You took a breath when he just left the bar, walking down the hall towards his room.

“Oh no, you just started a very dangerous game” Mr Compress commented as you felt yourself slump against the door.

#mha x reader #sfw #yandere #yandere dabi #yandere boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #yandere bnha #yamdere mha #dabi yandere #gender nuetral reader #mha reader insert

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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Tome - Rogue, Chapter 10| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: You find yourself talking to a mysterious stranger, whom you can’t help but feel a pull towards. Will the Mandalorian get there in time? And what will happen when he shows up?

Warnings: Gonna put this as an 18+ but it’s not SUPER graphic, Swearing (this is a given by now), a little angst, sexual tension – a lot - &mentions of sex that are kinda detailed, WE GETTING HOT IN HERE TODAY

AN: I was trying to hold off on the sexual tension but I couldn’t wait any longer and I needed to add some of Din’s darker side – I blame all the fanfics and Tik Tok, and i’m not ashamed

Word count: 6.5k+

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:

@snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew

Mando’a translation: Tome – Together

You studied the man as he drew off his hood.

He had inky black hair, so dark the loose waves caught a blue tone in the light of the cantina, like the wings of a crow or a raven.

His skin was softly tanned, yet still a little pale, the pallor set off by the darkness of his hair.

But it was his eyes that drew your attention first.

They were the colour of melted amber, shockingly bright, like they almost glowed from within. They sparkled with flecks of gold, watching you with a keen interest, seeing what you would make of him and his offer. They glimmered like they already knew the answer before you did yourself.

He was heartbreakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Almost flawless.

So, where was his mark, his tell of a dark past, twisted with horrors and darkness that always seemed to follow beautiful people?

There.

As the light shifted, you saw that he bore two long, wicked scars on his face.

One began just above his eyebrow, parting through it and narrowly missing the edge of his eye, before coming to a thin point on his high cheekbone.

The other was smaller, drawn across the plush curve of his lips. It twisted it only slightly, just slightly tugging up one corner, but they did nothing to mar his sheer beauty.

It was.. almost otherworldly. Disarming.

That, combined with his watchfulness gave you a distinct feeling that you were dancing the line between prey or… company?

Or maybe it was the way the light seemed to shy away from the planes of his face, whereas the shadows clung to him like a second skin, like they were an extension of him.

You remained perched on your seat, torn between immediately leaving and putting distance between yourself and this too-beautiful man… or joining him.

He tilted his head, leaning back in his seat and he motioned gracefully to the stool in from of him, “Join me, love. I won’t bite.” His lips curled up into a wider grin and you swore you could almost see fangs, “Not unless you want me to.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the comment made you realise he probably wasn’t going to kill you if he was flirting with you. “Well, since you paid for my drinks.” You shrugged lightly, slid off of your seat and then joined him at his table. “I’m not so easily won over though, just to inform you.”

The man’s smile turned lazy, feline and he chuckled. The sound of his laugh was like velvet, sliding over your bones and whispering in your ear, “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second, love. I can tell you need more than a few looks and drinks.” He ran those ridiculous eyes over you, taking in every inch and it felt like was seeing straight into your soul. He made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat, lifting his eyes to yours again, “No. You strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be truly impressed with more than empty promises.”

Your skin warmed with his gaze, your eyes narrowing a little, but you mirrored his feline smirk, leaning forward and dropping your voice, “And you think you’re the one to impress me, do you?”

He looked over your face, leaning forward and the scent of rain-kissed cedar and thunderstorms washed over you, swirling around your head and filling your lungs, “Maybe. Though something tells me that I might have a contender.”

Unbidden, the thoughts of that night on the Crest came back in a rush, Lori’s bare hands tracing over your skin, your throat and pulling through your hair with utter adoration.

You tensed, an ache of longing ripping through you and it blew your cocky response out of the water.

The man blinked a little, his eyes softening as he read your response that was obviously clearer than you’d like it to be, “Apologies. I didn’t mean to step over the line, so forgive me if I have.” He leant back again, raising his drink to you.

You shook your head softly, giving him a smile that was perhaps only a little forced, “Don’t worry about it, really.” You clinked your glass to his and then sipped your drink, maybe taking a deeper drink than the situation required. “So, what really made you pay for my drinks?”

The man looked a little bashful, gazing at the back of his gloves, “I’ve only been on the planet for the day. I saw you practising with the Marshal earlier and I was impressed. And… wanted to meet the woman who fought like she was dancing.” With his eyelashes lowered, you could see that the scar just tugged at the edge of his eyelid, and you briefly wondered how he managed to walk away with his eye still in his head.

However, his words had you frowning slightly because… they were the exact same words the Mandalorian had spoken to Greef, in awe of you. “Mmm-hm…” You raised an eyebrow at him, starting to believe you may have made a mistake in sitting here. “What’s the real reason?”

He lifted his eyes back to you, and had the good grace to look a little awkward, “I…” He sighed, “I fear I’m giving you the worst first impression of myself.” He spread his hands on the table almost in a gesture to show he meant no harm, “There have been rumours that… The Mandalorian who stole the Child had taken off with another bounty. And that…”

Your gaze was level and hard on him, wanting an answer and wanting it now, “And?”

He bit his lip, that curl of hair still resting over his forehead and making him longer especially with the guilt in his expression, “That there was something between him and his old bounty. Him and… you.” He inclined his head toward you slightly.

Warning bells began to tinkle in your head. “And where did you hear that?”

He shrugged lightly, lifting a hand, “Oh, one hears many things. Especially about you, my love. You’re famous in planets that don’t even know about the Mandalorian. Everyone knows someone who’s seen your puck.” He was reaching toward the sword on his back, his hand closed around the hilt.

Within a blink, your hand was on your own knife again, “I am going to give you thirty seconds to tell me the truth, or I swear, I will run my knife through that pretty eye of yours so quickly you won’t even have time to breathe.”

He blinked, something flickering in his expression, but he held his hands up further, “Easy.” He pulled his sword free of his holster, setting it on the table between you both. “I’m not here to take you in. I was shown your puck, but I refused. I had heard you were here, and I wanted to warn you.”

Your hand didn’t budge from the knife, “Warn me? Of what? I know that everyone is after me. I don’t need some stranger telling me that.”

The man tilted his head, adjusting the hood of his cloak over his shoulders now that his sword was out of the way, “Don’t you want to know who employed them all? All of the people who have been after you?”

Is he playing with you?

You were entirely focused on him, ready to fling the knife and bolt should you need to. You knew how to get out of here, how to get up to the rooftops and dart across them.

Don’t. Don’t ask him, just in case. Get out now.

He knew… He knew who sent everyone after your head.

No.

This man knew who was responsible for the lives of friends and strangers.

You shouldn’t ask. This was a mistake. You needed to leave.

You looked away from his golden stare, drawn to look at the sword lying there on the table.

Your brows furrowed imperceptibly as you beheld the strange symbols carved onto the sheath.

Something about them seemed… familiar. Strangely so. They itched at the back of your mind like a forgotten language.

He lowered his golden eyes to the sword between you, sucking in the light of the room.

“The symbols on this sword… they call to you, don’t they?” He ran a gloved finger along the sheath, tracing delicately over the inscribed symbols.

You bit your lip, hesitating as you watched him.

He looked up at your expression, your hesitation and then he slowly unsheathed the sword, revealing the blade to you.

The blade was made of a deep, dark obsidian coloured material. It was like no metal you’d ever seen. It seemed sheer almost, like a gemstone but it was a rich ebony colour, as endless as space. It pulled in the light around it, sucked it dry and seemed to use it to glow darkly from within.

Along the centre of the blade, the same symbols were inscribed, but this time in a rich golden gilt.

With each symbol that was exposed, something rose within you.

He was right.

They truly did call to you. You didn’t know how, or why, but you felt like you knew what they meant, that you should understand them.

The caged power of the Force within you felt it too.

That’s what they were calling to, what they were connecting with.

The raven-haired man smiled that disarming smile again, his lips twitching up in delight, knowing he was correct. He remained silent for a few seconds, “They call to your power.”

Wait.

He… knew?

How the fuck did he know about you?

No one knew. Not even the Mandalorian knew.

You reached for your blade instinctively again, watching the man in front of you.

Fear must have registered in your eyes, mixed with a defensive warning, because he held up his hands.

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that. I’m not here for you, or the bounty.” He shrugged a little, “Okay, I am here for you, but not like that. You see, my sister was the same. She had the same… gifts, as you.” He mercifully kept his voice low, soft enough that only you could just hear it.

You didn’t speak, couln’t say anything, only watched him. Waiting. Even if curiosity did spark within you.

He smiled softly like he saw it, the scars on his lips doing nothing to mar the overwhelming, stunning impact of that simple gesture, “That’s right… she was so incredibly talented, and I adored her to pieces. She was beautiful and had such a light within her. Much like you. And I want to help you… like I tried to do for her.” He tilted his head a little, his molten eyes shimmering with sadness as he spoke about her. IT was etched in every line of his body, the pain of losing a loved one that you held so dear.

You swallowed, slowly letting go of your knife, “What happened to her? How do you know about me? Who is sending the hunters after me? Who are you?” The questions tumbled form your lips like rain, unable to stop them as you were faced with a man who could.. maybe help you?

He chuckled softly, filling the air with that musical sound again, “Let me answer the easiest one first. My name is Rena and-“

The doors to the cantina opened, letting in a warm, volcanic breeze.

You felt, rather than heard his presence behind you. You could recognise the almost silent footfalls, the barest scrape of armour as it got closer and closer to you.

With every step, it felt like you might jump out of your skin.

He was here.

He’d come back.

Had he come back for you?

“Get away from her.” His snarl made the chatter in the cantina drop a few notches, the atmosphere subtly changing as everyone tried not to listen in.

You could feel his height rising up behind you, and turned around in your seat to greet him, despite the snarl in his voice. Your elation at seeing him, the very way your bones hummed in delight made you miss what he just said.

“Lori.. you’re here.” You couldn’t deny the way you greedily took in his tall, beskar-clad form. His armour looked… dustier, dirtier than it usually did. Like he hadn’t had time to clean it. There were a few patches smudged over the chest plates, and the fabric beneath looked a little torn. The more rugged look was good on him, giving him that edge that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

Grogu rested at his side, in his little pouch bag. He cooed delightedly when he saw you, earning himself a grin and a wave.

And in the Mandalorian’s other hand…

Duru.

Held in his hand like he normally held the Child.

You tilted your head, reaching out to take her, “Lori, why are you carrying my cat like a baby?” You laughed, holding her furry body close

He ignored you, his helmet focused on the figure opposite you. “I said, get away from her.” The rough baritone of his voice held a fierceness you’d never heard before, the promise of a thinly veiled threat should your companion continue to ignore him.

You blinked in surprise, at the fierceness in his tone.

You’d expected a ‘Hello’ at least, but here he was, acting like you were invisible and giving a death stare (you presumed) to the man opposite.

Rena chuckled softly, that laugh like flowing water over smooth stones, “Calm down, friend. I’m not going to hurt her.” He smiled at the Mandalorian, all easy charm and glowing eyes.

Mando growled, striding forward and he flung his arm out across your body… like he was protecting you?

“I am not your friend. And you are nothing to her. So back off.”

You frowned, something prickling at the back of your neck, a feeling you couldn’t place. You appreciated the Mandalorian defending you but… from what?

Did he think you couldn’t be trusted to sit and talk to someone? That you were dumb enough to make a foolish mistake with so many after you?

“Mando. Enough. You don’t even know Rena. Neither do I. Calm down.” Your voice was soft, but firm. To tell him you appreciated the defence, but you didn’t need him to save you.

Besides, you wanted to know more about him, more about how he knew what lingered within you and how he planned to help.

He barely looked over his shoulder at you, keeping his head turned to Rena, “You’re right in that you don’t know him. But I do. So forgive me, but I’m the one calling the shots in this situation. Take the kid and go back to the Razor Crest. We’re leaving.”

Your shoulders straightened and your eyes flashed as you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re the one calling the shots?” Your voice was flecked with icy coolness, and disbelief, “I can make my own decisions, Mandalorian. Despite what you may think.” You let acid creep into your tone, let him know you were referring to him decided to dump you here.

Rena’s amber eyes flicked between the two of you, dancing in amusement as he tilted his head, “I’d listen to her, Mandalorian. I think she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes to be told what to do.” The light bounced off his dark hair, making the inky curls catch a deep blue. His posture was at ease, leaning back in his chair, his sword within easy reach, should he need it.

The cantina was silent now, everyone flat out watching or listening to the potential fight that was going to ensue… and whether it would be between Mando and Rena, or Mando and yourself.

Mando still had his arm across your body and Duru’s too, actually. “And you don’t strike me as the kind of monster that plays with their food for so long. I know you like to have your sick little games, but this isn’t exactly your style is it.” His words were venomous, a tone you’d never ever heard before.

Anger flashed through you, chasing away the initial delight you had at seeing the Mandalorian. You understood his wariness of strangers, but he was being out of order. You weren’t stupid. You’d been doing this for long enough that your instincts were pretty sharp when it came who to trust and who to run away from.

You stood up, glaring at the back of his head, “Enough, Lori. This is ridiculous.”

Mando ignored the cold anger of your voice, finally looking at you over his shoulder. “Just wait outside. Please.”

His plea stopped you short. He had only ever used that word in such a tone once before.

In the kitchen area, with his hands on your skin and in your hair.

Please.

And… was there a layer of fear beneath it?

You sighed, looking from him to Rena, reluctant to leave them in case the fight did indeed break out. This man… he said he could help. And he couldn’t very well do that dead, could he?

You didn’t doubt for a single second that Mando wouldn’t go down without a fight, but you sensed there was something coiled within Rena, a slumbering beast that was waiting to be provoked. It prowled behind his eyes and his smile.

As if reading this in your eyes, Rena smiled at you, shaking his head a little, “I’m not looking for a fight, love. Your Mandalorian will come back to you in one piece. And I’ll leave here in one piece as well.” His eyes shifted to Mando, something in them shifting, “Won’t I?”

Mando was still, his instincts on trigger mode and just waiting to explode, “I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you took Grogu from Mando. “Fine. You have five minutes.”

You rested the bag across your body, ignoring the eyes watching you as you stalked out of the cantina. “Men.”

The cantina door opened, and the Mandalorian walked out.

A quick inspection revealed no damage, so you turned your gaze back to your knife.

You were perched on a wall, Grogu on your lap and Duru around your shoulders as you waited for the Mandalorian.

Having spotted you, he walked over, hesitating a few steps away like he was approaching a raging fire.

Good. Let him hesitate. Let him know how fucking furious I am with him.

You said nothing, continuing to clean the blade of your knife on the edge of your cloak.

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft thump of Duru’s tail, and Grogu’s tiny huff as he looked between you both.

Mando observed you for a moment, before placing his hands on his hips and sighing, “Come on then.”

You turned over your knife, methodically buffing up the blade, “What the fuck was that? Do you treat all strangers the way you did in there?”

The Mandalorian was still, watching you carefully, “He’s not a stranger. He’s dangerous. Deadly.”

You still hadn’t looked at him, “I am dangerous. And deadly. I’ve killed people and ‘played with my food’. Does that mean I am a monster too?”

He shifted his weight to his other leg, “I didn’t call you a monster. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry if it stirred anything up, I didn’t think” Your old argument must have flashed through his mind because it did yours. But that wasn’t the issue.

Grogu looked at you as you shook your head, “Nope. You didn’t think, did you? You waltzed in there. And made a scene.”

A noise filtered through the vocoder and over to you, “A scene? I would hardly call it making a scene. That guy is a stone-cold killer. He was sitting there, toying with you and no one would have batted an eyelid to help you. There are people after your head, him especially!”

Fire simmered through your veins. “Oh, for the love of all the stars, grow up! He isn’t deadly. He knew who I was, and he didn’t once raise a hand to hurt me. He said as much himself.”

The Mandalorian laughed, that damn laugh that made your teeth set on edge, “He told you, did he? Oh, forgive me then. Of course, he was telling the truth.” He shook his head, pacing and then coming back to you.

You frowned, watching him pace, “What is your problem with him? So I was talking to some guy in a bar, that immediately makes him a monster?”

The Mandalorian made a frustrated noise, raising his hands, “My problem, sweetheart, is that I thought you were smarter than that! Some creep tells you he knows who you are but he ‘isn’t going to hurt you’ and I thought you’d be running the other way and he’d be laying there with a knife in his chest! Not laughing with you over that fucking sword of his.”

This man was being ridiculous.

“So, this about my supposed stupidity now too, is it? Because I did something that you didn’t expect me to do?” You shoved your blade back into it’s sheath, nearly slicing your leg as you did.

Mando made another frustrated noise, “Fucking hell, you’re not listening to me, again!! This is not about you! This is about him!! He cannot be trusted. He is a monster and a murderer. And I don’t care if he was singing you nursery rhymes or telling you about the baby Porgs he adopts, he was lying! He is going to kill you and I am not letting that happen!”

Jaw clenched, you glared at him still, “Have you seen him do such things? Where’s your proof he was going to kill me. Do you know him?”

“Not exactly. But I-“

“No. You don’t know him at all. You didn’t trust me to be able to handle the situation, even though there wasn’t a situation until you walked in.”

Mando crossed his arms across his stupidly broad chest, “Like I said. You clearly didn’t know what you were dealing with. Again.”

You slowly looked up at him, eyes blazing and Grogu made a noise, his little body going still. “Oh?”

The Mandalorian kept his gaze firmly on you, oozing that cockiness that grated on you as much as your own grated on him, “Nope.” He tilted his head, “Someone has to keep you safe.”

It was the insinuation on the word, ‘someone’, that had you picking up Grogu and placing him on the wall. He immediately tucked his chin into his tunic, his hands coming up to cover his ears.

A beat later, your fury exploded.

“Someone needs to keep me safe?! And I suppose that title oh so graciously falls on you, does it? Because you know everything about everyone who comes into contact with me?” You stalked toward him, poking a finger into his chest, “I was doing just fine before you. I don’t need you to keep saving me. If I remember correctly, it was me who saved you the last time. So don’t come out here on your high and mighty hero argument, you pretentious, shiny, asshole!” You pointed at him, “You can’t just walk in and start accusing people of being murderers when you clearly don’t know them!”

The Mandalorian sighed, “Don’t start this again. You know I didn’t mean it like that. So, don’t start calling me names either. I was trying to protect you, like I keep saying.”

You growled at him, “So you’re allowed to waltz in there and start spewing accusations, but I’m not allowed to call you out for being an asshole?”

Mando walked over to the wall where Grogu and Duru were perched, “I wasn’t spewing accusations, princess. I was telling the truth. When are you going to believe me?” He scooped up the kids, placing Grogu back in his pouch over his shoulder and holding Duru in his arm again.

For some reason, that fuelled your anger even more, that he took your cat and strolled off. You scrambled off of the wall, “Are you going to explain to me how you know then?” You followed him as he began to walk down the street, winding through the paths.

He didn’t even look at you just kept walking, “I just know that he went in there to kill you. He was playing with you first.”

You darted around a fruit cart, the setting sun bouncing off his shiny head and getting in your eyes, “And I asked you for your proof. Which I’m still waiting for.”

Mando stopped, so suddenly you bumped into his back with a soft oof. “Look. I just know, okay. Can’t you leave it at that for once?” You just knew there was a pleading expression underneath the helmet, but you weren’t letting it go.

You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him, “I’m gonna give you a minute to remember who I am and answer that question for yourself.”

He groaned, dropping his head back and looking at the darkening sky for a moment. “Fine.” He lowered his head to look at you again, “In Mandalorian culture, there are legends of a creature so foul, he was spat back out of the deepest pits of darkness. A man so cruel that darkness itself shies away from him. They say he has no soul. I didn’t believe in it when I was a Foundling. I thought it was just a story they told us to make sure we stayed in line but… I know that it’s true now. He is true. We call him Haran. It means cosmic annihilation, because that’s what he brings. He kills people for pure pleasure, but he drags it out in the worst way possible first. And he’s after you.”

You said nothing. Simply staring at him.

He stared back at you, waiting.

The seconds ticked by, Grogu and Duru looking between you both.

Finally, you spoke. Your voice was very quiet, very calm, “You mean to tell me. That you walked into that cantina, after over a month of not seeing me, without even saying hello, I might add. And you walked over to this man, accused him of being a murderer and threatened him… because you think he’s a children’s story?!”

The noise of exasperation that came from the man before you mirrored your own emotions, “For the love of- You’re impossible.”

“And you’re talking bullshit.” You snapped the words, arms still crossed, and you were just getting madder by the second. But something was suddenly becoming clear in your mind, some dark whisper to play with him.

Mando almost audibly rolled his eyes, shaking his head before turning around and continuing to walk. “Whatever, princess. You asked, I told you.”

There was no hesitation as you followed him again, “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His voice was flat now, bored almost. He weaved through some more corners and streets, the paths getting quieter and some empty buildings rising up around you.

“Yep. And I think I know why. I know why you suddenly went alpha male protective on me. I know why you made such a scene. And I know why you’re acting like this now.” You were poking at him; sure you knew the truth now. And if you were wrong, hell, maybe you could make him as frustrated as he had made you.

“Do enlighten me, princess. How do you know such things?” There was an edge to his voice, like he knew where you were going with this.

“Because to me, it sounds like you walked in there, saw me sitting with someone else and…”

He stopped, putting the kids down on a wall again as he turned to look at you, “And what? Say it.” The visor of his helmet was locked onto you and you had that feeling again that you had locked eyes.

You stared back at him, crossing your arms, voice dripping with fury and contempt, but now with an edge, “You were jealous.”

The evening was quiet, this part of town abandoned by the look of the crumbling buildings around you.

The Mandalorian laughed, but there was no humour in his voice, “Jealous? You think I was jealous of him?”

You bristled at the cocky laugh, eyes flashing again and that hidden part of you shimmered and trembled, “It sure as hell looked like it. You didn’t even say hello to me before you were descending upon us like an alpha male claiming your territory.” You stalked closer to him, two predators dancing around each other again, “I am not your territory, or your property. I am no-ones.”

Mando didn’t move, letting you come closer, “I know that. I never once laid claim to you. But when I walked and saw you sitting there with that.. that..”

You snarled softly, “Don’t say it again.”

He looked at you for a moment, “That creature… I lost it. You shouldn’t be on the same planet as him, let alone across the table.” He dropped his arms to his sides, displaying that restless energy that was so rare for him.

You couldn’t help but laugh this time, “Because he’s some kind of spooky shadow man from your childhood stories? Please.”

Mando shook his head fiercely, pointing at you, “It’s the truth. Haran is real. And he was sitting opposite you, playing with you and pretending to be some bashful pretty boy.”

You prowled toward him, mimicking the shaking of his head. “No. Not good enough. Stop lying to me, Lori.”

“I am not lying to you!! Get it through your head, he was going to kill you!!”

You were right in front of him now, peering up at him, “Admit it.”

His voice was tight, but he didn’t back away, “Drop it, princess. I already told you.”

You shook your head, “I don’t believe you. If you wont tell me the truth I’ll help you.” You took a tiny step closer, so close your chest brushed against his as he panted a little. “I think you went to my room, expecting me to be there. You saw that I was gone and Duru was alone. You immediately thought the worst, and came rushing down to the cantina, hoping you’d find me there. And you did. Only it wasn’t what you expected.”

Mando was silent, his hands curling into fists and uncurling again.

You continued, relentless, “Instead of being on my own, you saw me sitting with another man. A damn good looking one at that.” You cooed the word at hi, dropping your tone to a seductive, needy one.

You wouldn’t have heard the soft growl if you hadn’t been this close, and it only spurred you on. “You saw us laughing, talking. And you didn’t like it.” You tilted your head a little, “You saw us and thought… how well do they know each other?” You lifted your hand, placing your fingertips on his chest, “Maybe we knew each other as friends. Or… maybe we knew each other more than that. Maybe we’d spent nights together...” You began to tap your fingers down the Mandalorian’s chest plate, as you lowered your voice to a seductive purr, “What if we couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get to the bed and he threw me against the wall, tearing the buttons off my trousers in his haste.”

Mando was breathing harder now, his hands curled up tight. You knew you were pushing his buttons, edging him to possible fury but something in you ached to do this, to feel something like that night before. You wanted a reaction out of him, something more than just protectiveness and care. You wanted him to lose his cool, break free of his restraint and just… do something.

“Maybe I tore off his clothes too, both of us kissing so fiercely we couldn’t breathe, our tongues dancing around each other as we grabbed at each other, pulling away the layers of clothes until…”

You rose up on tiptoe, your hands resting against his belly for support, and you knew the helmet would pick up your whispers, “Until he sunk into me, pushing me against the wall and fucking me, so hard and so loud that everyone in that building heard, that everyone knew what was happening. They knew his name, they knew my name, and they knew that we did not stop going. That we had sex on every available surface in that room. That I threw him on the bed and rode him until he was clawing at my hips. Do you want to see? Do you want to see the bruises that you think are on my hips?”

You turned your head, so your lips brushed the edge of his helmet and fire burned through you as he turned his head into your words and his hands twitched, “Do you wish it was you, Lori? Do you wish it was you that was making me scream? That you were the one leaving marks on my body? That you were the one buried so deep within me I could feel you in my belly?” You pushed your body into him, effectively pinning him to the wall with your own body, “Did you think about me whilst I was gone? Alone, in the middle of the night with only your hand to keep you company?”

Your fingers trailed to his clenched fist, curling your hand around it to bring it to your waist.

Only for him to let out a choked growl that set your bones ablaze. He spun quicker than you’d ever seen him move, switching the position and holding your hand against the wall, his other next your head, effectively creating a cage with his body, “Shut up.”

You grinned, hearing the rasping tone of his voice, “I knew it, I knew you were jealous. You did think I fucked him, didn’t y-“

Suddenly, his hand had left yours and was over your mouth, “For a girl who acts like a princess, you have a fucking vulgar mouth.” He tilted his head down to yours, his voice rumbly and sparking all sorts of images in your mind. “Maybe I was a little jealous. I’ll admit it.”

Your eyes flared with triumph, even if the hand on your mouth was coiling heat in your belly, making heat flood through your body – and between your legs.

The Mandalorian leant in closer, surrounding you with his scent again, smokey leather, metal and that distinct woodsy smell. “You asked me if I think about you… but what about you, cyar'ika? Do you think about me when you’re alone?”

By the stars, the way his voice dropped and rolled along your spine like a caress. It opened up the corner of your mind that you tried to ignore, the corner that spilled out every night, into your dreams.

“Do you think about that night on the Crest? What might have happened if we weren’t interrupted? Would my hands have gone lower? Touched where you wish it was me? Sunk into you and stroked you until your legs shook?” He chuckled lowly, a sound that would have brought you to your knees if he wasn’t caging you to the wall. He was so close you could no longer see your reflection in his visor. His head titled a little and you felt his body push into yours gently, all hard, cold armour, but beneath that… beneath his hips, he pressed into you.

You could feel the hard length of him, feel that he was turned on by this just as much as you, maybe he wanted this as much as you did.

Wanted the images searing through your mind, of his hands tearing around your clothes, dropping to your thighs and lifting them around his waist, gripping them so hard he left bruises as he pushed into you..

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

Electricity crashed through your veins and your darkened eyes rolled back a little, thighs clenching. You couldn’t help it, your lips parted and a soft moan slipped from them, muffled against the leather of his hand and without thinking, you bit down on his fingers, tasting the leather.

His hand tensed over your mouth, his body jerking into yours a little as his breath left him in a soft huff. “Fuck, you d-“

“Uh, guys?”

Cara’s voice filtered through the haze of lust that clouded your brain, and immediately, the Mandalorian jumped backward, the two of you parting like you’d been shocked.

Heat flooded your cheeks and neck, not from embarrassment so much as a response to his words.

The man made you furious, made you see red but… you couldn’t deny the fire between you. The way you were dancing around each other since you met. You were seemingly in a constant stay of being polite, flirting with each other or being at each other’s throats – either through anger or pure lust.

“What is it, Cara?” Mando turned to her, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended due to the roughness of his voice, betraying the reactions of his body.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and you just knew she saw it all from the way she was holding back a smirk as she looked at you. “That guy from the cantina asked me to give you this.” She held something out to you.

You cleared your throat, pushing away from the wall and walking past Mando carefully, like the faintest touch between you both would ignite something. “Thanks, Cara” You took the object she held out and it was a thin metal card with a code embossed onto it. You frowned, flipping it over but all that lay on the other side was a symbol. A two headed snake coiled around a sword that looked a lot like the one that had been sheathed on his back.

The Mandalorian answered instead, thankfully staying where he was, “It’s a comms code. If you input it, it’ll connect you to him.” His voice was tight, “If he thinks-“

You held up a hand, not looking at him, “Don’t even finish that sentence.” You pocketed the card, letting out a breath, “I’m going to go and sort my things out. I… I’ll meet you all in a bit.” You allowed yourself a glance back at the Mandalorian, skin heating when you found his visor already trained on you.

You swallowed thickly, your blood simmering again but you made yourself turn around, avoiding Cara’s smirk, “C’mon, Duru.”

You headed back to your little apartment, relieved when you heard no trailing footsteps behind you. You needed the time alone for a minute, to process what the hell just happened between you both.

And maybe to cool down.

He would be the death of you.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the force #the child #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #rogue

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dilly-oh · 3 years

Text

Trashy Romance Novel

“Naruto, you frigging idiot,” Iruka began hotly, barging into the hospital room, “of all the stupid, brainless things you could have done, this is by far the-”

He stopped.

The person lying in the small bed was definitely not Naruto. It was a grown-ass man with messy gray hair and a faded scar over one eye, the sterile white sheets pulled up over his nose, apparently sound asleep. Iruka stared at him for a long moment, dumbfounded, before it clicked.

Oh shit, he thought. This is the wrong room. I'm in the wrong room. I need to hurry up and leave before-

The stranger's eyes cracked open and he squinted up at Iruka in confusion.

“...Who're you?” he croaked out. Iruka managed a rather articulate gurgle of dismay, frozen in sheer mortification. He considered the distance between him and the IV drip, wondering if he could dose the man back to unconsciousness before he could scream or buzz for a nurse. “Are those for me?” the man asked, sitting up in bed to regard the bouquet of flowers in Iruka's arms. He opened his mouth to disagree, but then the sheet slipped off the man's face, and Iruka suddenly thought giving him the flowers might not be such a bad idea. He definitely deserved a thank you after gifting him with...that. He didn't even protest as the alarmingly handsome stranger reached out and took the bundle of flowers, opening the card on top.

“You're a dumbass. Love, Iruka.” he read aloud, then looked up at Iruka, batting his eyes. “Aww, babe, you shouldn't have.”

“Whoa whoa WHOA!” Iruka finally blurted out, his face burning half from embarrassment at the situation, half from the thinly-veiled flirting. “I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake. I'm in the wrong room and-”

“You mean you aren't my doting husband I tragically forgot about due to amnesia and now you have to win back my love by passionately recreating the story of our romantic union?”

“Excuse me, WHAT-”

“Sorry, I've been reading trashy romance novels. They're the only books this hospital has. Can't blame me for trying.” The man shrugged, then reluctantly handed back the bouquet. “Who's the lucky person they're actually for? Must be someone real special if you're calling them a dumbass to their face.”

“My kid brother,” Iruka explained with a sigh. “He's here with a head injury.”

“Ouch.” The man winced in sympathy. “Poor kid.”

“Not really. He head-butted a brick wall.”

“...May I ask why?”

“Because his stupid boyfriend walked into it and he had to, and I quote, 'defend his honor'.” Iruka paused, looking the man up and down. Despite being a bit on the pale side, he looked perfectly fine, pun very much intended. It was almost unfair how well he pulled off the hospital gown (although Iruka would much rather be the one pulling it off, wink wink, nudge nudge). “So...what're you in for?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Was...was it the crappy romance novels? Did they rot your brain?”

“I have an extremely rare, aggressive form of cancer with only two weeks left to live and the only cure is a kiss from my one true love...” The man swooned back onto the pillow and looked expectantly up at Iruka, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah they definitely did-”

“Alright you got me. Broke my leg.” He pulled the sheet off his lower half, revealing his legs, one of which was wrapped in a cast, propped up on some pillows. Several encouraging words from friends were scrawled on the white surface in marker, one of them a jarring green highlighter. It almost hurt Iruka's eyes to look at it.

“...How did you break it?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“I heroically threw myself in front of a speeding car in order to save the life of my beloved-”

“Okay how did you really break it?”

“Tripped chasing after my pug at the park,” the man admitted with a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“...Is the dog okay?” Iruka asked after a long pause.

The stranger burst out laughing. It was a nice laugh, warm and contagious enough to elicit a chuckle out of Iruka, who was growing more and more intrigued. He couldn't deny the spark of attraction he felt for the other man, spontaneous as it was, and it seemed to be reciprocated. He didn't even know his name, but something about the man made Iruka want to know more about him. Maybe this was like some trashy romance novel, where the two would-be lovers met under unusual circumstances and fell instantly in-

“Hey, Kakashi,” a man with short brown hair said, suddenly walking into the room, “I brought the next three volumes of your shitty porn series from the hospital library and a couple pairs of clean underwear, so you can stop fucking texting me the specific style and brand you want from home, you're so damn picky-” He stopped dead as he caught sight of Iruka, pausing for a beat, then glanced at the man in the bed, his eyes darting nervously between the two. “Umm...am I...interrupting something?”

A cold pit of ice yawned open in Iruka's stomach.

Oh my GOD. Here he was, borderline flirting with some stranger in a random hospital room, when obviously the man already had a boyfriend and Iruka was just making a complete ass of himself. The flirting had probably been misinterpretation on his part anyway, and if not, the guy was a total dick. Either way, enough was enough. His face aflame with rage and shame, Iruka spun towards the door.

“I need to go.”

“Hey, wait!” Kakashi or whatever his name was called after him.

Iruka was already out the door, ignoring the man's cries. Screw him, and screw Naruto, too. He was the cause of this whole mess. Iruka would just text him later. He was probably making out with Sasuke anyway and wouldn't even notice his brother hadn't popped in to visit. Iruka needed out of this hospital NOW. He turned towards the stairs, immediately got lost, and spent the next five minutes growing increasingly flustered as he stormed through the winding hallways, desperately searching for the exit. Why the fuck was the hospital so damn BIG-

“Hey! Iruka! Hold up!”

Iruka spun around to see Kakashi speeding towards him in a wheelchair, his boyfriend dutifully pushing him down the hallway at a dead run, IV dangling after him on its cord like a faithful dog. The wheelchair stopped with an audible squeal in front of him.

“What- where did- did you steal that?!” Iruka hissed in outrage.

“Of course not, don't be silly,” Kakashi protested, sounding offended. “The guy it belongs to was asleep in his bed. I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it later. Anyway, Iruka-”

“Were you flirting with me in there?” Iruka demanded, cutting him off. “Be honest.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Kakashi said without an ounce of remorse. “So can I have your number or what?” Iruka bristled.

“You're a piece of shit! I can't believe you, hitting on me like this right in front of your boyfriend! You have some nerve-”

“Wait...boyfriend?” Kakashi cocked his head in confusion. “You mean Yams?”

“The fuck do YAMS have to do with anything-”

“Hi, that's me,” the short-haired man said, raising a hand. “Yamato, actually. 'Yams' to my friends. Which is what we are. Just...friends.” Iruka scowled at him suspiciously.

“Friends? Don't fuck with me. You brought him underwear-”

“Really close friends,” Yamato reiterated. “Also, roommates. It's awful. I can't get away from him.” Iruka studied him for a moment, but couldn't spot any hint of deception. The man's almond-shaped eyes were surprisingly honest.

“So you two...aren't dating?” he asked hesitantly. Yamato gave him a horrified look.

“Dear God, NO. Kakashi is the WORST. He's lazy as hell, procrastinates til the last minute, is perpetually late to everything-”

“You are a shit wingman-” Kakashi began.

“He needs to know what he's getting into,” Yamato snapped at him, then turned back to Iruka. “Seriously, though. You should run while you still can. There's hope for you.”

“Don't listen to him,” Kakashi cut in. “I'm a fucking catch. Which is exactly why you should let your flaxen hair down, rip your shirt open to reveal your heaving bosom, and throw yourself into my arms-”

“Will you cut that out?!” Iruka burst out impatiently. “Life is not a trashy romance novel.”

“You sure about that?” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I met you in a hospital through total coincidence. After really hitting it off, we had a misunderstanding brought on by miscommunication. Then I chased after you in a fucking wheelchair to declare my undying attraction to you. If that isn't a plot to a trashy romance novel, I don't know what the fuck is. At least it's not raining right now.”

“I dunno, it might be drizzling,” Yamato said, glancing at a window.

Iruka paused, considering.

“I guess it...would make a pretty good book,” he admitted quietly. “The only thing is...I'm not sure what happens next.”

“That part's for us to write,” Kakashi said, his tone eager. “Only we can complete the story.”

“Aaaaand I'm going to puke,” Yamato stated.

“Sorry, we crossed the line from 'trashy' into 'sappy'.” Kakashi shook his head. “Anyway. Iruka. Please, I'm begging you. Let me sweep you off your feet. Just...give me a chance.”

“I'll do you one better,” Iruka said after a pause. “I'll give you my number.” Stealing a marker from the nearby nurse's station, he bent and wrote his cell number on Kakashi's cast, then straightened and held out the bouquet. “Here, you can have these. The message works for you too, I guess.”

Kakashi accepted the flowers with a laugh, taking an appreciative sniff.

“And now, I shall ride dramatically off into the sunset,” he said with complete seriousness. “Come, my valiant steed. Awaaaay!”

“I will push you down the stairs,” Yamato grumbled as he spun the wheelchair around and started back down the hallway. Iruka watched them go with a fond smile on his face, giddy with anticipation.

He was eager to read the next few chapters in his life.

Including the steamy bits.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twelve Prompt: Hospitals)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto #hospital au #crappy romance novels #all the cliches

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 4 years

Text

Most Beloved Demon

Summary: It all started with a simple chat. A mere idle thought you had about one of the human customs in matchmaking that you shared in with the rest of the brothers because you were once again scheming to have another date with Mammon. And then you had to make another group chat without him because God, Jesus, and Mary showed you the way and it was a birthday party extravaganza for Mammon.

Tags: Galaxy Brained Reader, Oblivious Mammon, Idiots in Love, Happy Birthday Mammon, Sweets, Reader is Horny for Mammon, Kissing as a distraction

Rating: Rated E for explicit cock sucking and fucking at a dark alleyway

A/N: A late birthday fic for Mammon because I’ve just finished prelims for law school and boy am I worried

It had started, like with all things that shook the House of Lamentation, at a fine peaceful day. You were lounging in your room, feeling slightly neglected that Mammon wasn’t cuddling with you which meant that you couldn’t accidentally brush against his cock while cuddling or send him a signal that you were totally down to be fucked by him anytime anywhere. You’ve exhausted all means of entertainment, you were done doing your Diavolo-sanctioned prank on Lucifer, exhausted Asmo’s patience on your Mammon-less day, taunted Belphie on his apparent failure to keep you dead, entertained yourself by treating Beel as a food disposal unit and conducting “science experiments”, teaching Satan about human curses, and of course harassed Levi’s in-game character and made him drop 20 levels because he talked shit about your in-game wifey who was Mammon. Not that he knew.

Which meant that you were so bored, and there was no Mammon who could distract you, or you could seduce to a very fun and sexy game of strip billiards. Which ultimately meant you’d either have to trek to the Castle and bother Diavolo to play with you or go over at the Purgatory Hall and rope Solomon into revealing if Merlin is real. In the middle of your contemplation, your phone vibrated and a quick glance at it showed Barbatos’ message which read:

It would be more fruitful if you remained where you are.

You blinked and obediently shelved your plan of bothering Solomon and instead sent a message to the group chat:

🐑 : You know, in the human world in one culture birth dates are a great way of measuring compatibility between two people

You sat back and waited for everyone’s reply. Then the messages came flooding in and you smirked in satisfaction as you saw Mammon take the bait you’ve dangled, you idly watched them bicker, pouring gasoline whenever or dousing it water. Your laptop was ready to calculate and the moment Asmo shared his birthday you brought out the results and gleefully watched the mayhem about to ensue.

🐑 : Amazing! Asmo we have an 88% Compatibility~!

Sure enough, Asmo would never miss out a chance to mess with everyone else and so the two of you were able to successfully get everyone to do the compatibility test with you. The moment Mammon gave you his birthday you had foolishly remained oblivious to the date. Mind still focusing on the compatibility rate.

🐑 : Mammon~ We’ve got the highest compatibility rate~! 91%!

🐑 : By the way the method I used is the one for calculating marriage compatibility.

And then you glanced back to the calculator and registered the date he had given.

“September 10?” You mumbled as you glanced at the calendar and then back to Mammon’s apparent birthday.

Your eyes widened in realization just as the door to your room slammed open and your very cute and most beloved demon came in with a wild blush on his face. You blinked at his winter outfit and then decided that Devildom was much to cold for your delicate human body. Mammon, who was attuned to the ebb and flow of your libido made quick work of his and your clothes and the two of you wrestled under the sheets.

After 10 rounds of you alternating between begging Mammon to cum inside you and asking to suck his dick, you were giving him sweet and lazy kisses on his neck, giving him hickeys all the while engaging in your shared favorite hobby cock warming. Mammon had been flustered, at the start, with how into his kinks you were up until he realized that you were really just into him and made him melt.

Now he was used and utterly spoiled with your clingy disposition after sex. He would give you sweet kisses or alternate with teasing you a little bit and letting you decide if you wanted to go for another round. Right now though, his mind was preoccupied with the words that you had said. Mammon might have just been dating you for less than a year but even so he already knew you like the back of his hand.

So he definitely knew that you had some sort of ulterior motive for bringing that part with the marriage. And Mammon wasn’t sure if he wanted you to be like that to him. He knew himself and he knew that if you were really willing to enter into marriage with him...that there was no way he’d let you get away and neither would you let him. Mammon had already seen the depths of your love for him, had come to accept that you would always hold him above all.

And the best and worst of it was that he was the same.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him voice soft and hoarse.

Mammon smirked as he remembered how you looked utterly bliss out after having your mouth fucked. He shifts and you moan as you end up beneath him. You feel his cum drip from your pussy and looked at him in anticipation.

“Ya really are a slut for me” Mammon teased you, thrusting into you a little bit.

“It’s because I love you...” You encircled your arms on his neck and tug him down for a sweet kiss. You smile as Mammon begins another round of sex, he fucks you languidly, enjoying this moment where the two of you simple enjoyed existing. Whispering sweet words of love and the knowledge that both of you had found each other.

When all is said and done, you spooned him, holding him tight and close to your chest and he holds you equally tight and tells you,

“...I want to spend my birthday with you...”

“As you wish” You kissed him good night.

In extreme contrast with your passionate and gentle night of slumber with Mammon was the birthday plan meeting you were currently holding secretly. You had, in very character of you, used one of the favors Barbatos owed you to have him send Mammon on an errand that would last long enough for all of you to plan his birthday.

Lucifer had shot down all your suggestions of gifting Mammon a Casino, a Mansion and Villa in the human realm, buying him a gold mine, and gifting him a civil registry that listed him as your husband in devildom and the human realm.

Satan had, in a rare moment of cooperation with Lucifer, also shot down all your party suggestions of champagne towers, booking the entire Ristorante Six, Booking the entire Fall, and giving Mammon a surprise wedding.

All of you had eventually decided to just give Mammon a sentimental and heartfelt gift of experience. With a strict order from Lucifer to not let you pick a stationary set that was used for weddings.

Which meant that you had made plans with them to buy it two days later, when you knew that Mammon had a photo shoot and thus you had no date with him scheduled that day. And because your Father-in-Law was still holding a grudge over that time you beat him up at the Mcdonald’s back parking lot, Mammon’s shoot got rescheduled and you ended up bumping to him just when you, Asmo, and Satan had bought the supplies.

“...Why?” He asked looking hurt and dejected that you had turned him down to spend time with Asmo and Satan.

“It’s now what you think!” You hurriedly replied.

“Hey, don’t sound like a husband that just got caught” Satan frowned as he stealthily hid the paper bag that held the stationary set and golden wax seal the three of you had bought.

“Satan’s right you know?” Asmo chimed, “The three of us were just window shopping.”

Asmo signaled you to distract Mammon and you nodded. So in a moment of sheer brilliance you led Mammon to a darkened and secluded alleyway. Pushed him in the wall and kissed him deeply before he could protest. All of his anger and hurt melted away as you fervently kissed him, one of your hand palming on his cock as you twined your tongue with his.

You stop and let Mammon see the sloppy evidence of the make out session you had just initiated. Far more filthy and intense than your accidentally on purpose mistake of fumbling the seduction spell during the exam.

“I’m not going to forgive you so easily!”

You said nothing to that and instead dropped to your knees as your finger traced the seam of his zipper. Mammon cursed and muttered an invisibility and warding spell. You unzipped his pants with your teeth, kissing his hardened cock through the fabric of his brief. You glanced at him and smiled at him devilishly before you took his cock into your mouth and began giving him the best blow job of his entire demonic and angelic life combined.

You, who was always horny on main for your demon boyfriend, was giving it your all in sucking his dick putting into good use all the techniques your succubi and incubi friends had given you. Your alternated between deep throating yourself with his thick and long cock and giving him a hand job as your tongue licked his balls and then his cock. You enjoyed the thick veins on Mammon’s dick along with the undeniable blunt ridges that you had grown familiar with.

“Fuck!” Mammon cursed as he decided he had enough of your teasing and fucked your mouth, dirty talk falling easily out of his mouth as he praised you, “You’re always such a slut for my dick aren’t ya? look at you turning your mouth into a pussy for me to use any time I want.”

You tried to convey your pleasure with your eyes, agreeing with everything Mammon said and that had only served to increase his pleasure. He took great joy at seeing you on your knees and begging him with your eyes as you lost your self to heat and lust. Hands gripping on Mammon’s clothes, your mouth and his cock making lewd noises as your saliva dripped on the corners of your mouth.

Mammon took out his cock from your mouth and you whined at the lost, his hand still gripping your hair and you were looking at him with a betrayed look while his free hand was pumping his dick.

“Mammon~”

“You really want me to make you swallow or do you want me to fuck you here in this alley for as long as I want?”

You blinked and looked at him with a dazed look, Mammon’s smirk growing wide as he let your hair go and watched you unzip your mini shorts, letting it drop to the ground and presenting your enticing hole to Mammon.

“What a good slut” Mammon praised you as he used his wet dick and spit as lube before teasing your opening.

“Ma-nnn..darling! I want your dick in me already!” You cried softly as Mammon teased you while you could only look longingly at his erect dick and let your mouth water.

“Then say the magic words” He teased you as he bit you on your neck.

“Please breed this good and obedient slut with your thick and lovely seed!” You begged him in between moans and shudders of pleasure that went through your body. Mammon stuttered for a moment before he regained his wits and did as you asked.

His cock entered you easily, “Your hole really was meant to take my cock” he let you get used to the feeling before he began moving slowly, watching the soft jiggling of your chest with each thrust he made. His hands were holding both of your wrists you could only moan as Mammon ruthlessly grazed your spot with his hard dick.

“If anyone could see you right now they’d think you were getting paid for this,” Mammon grinned darkly, “But then again, you were only ever a slut for me aren’t you? Opening your legs for me anytime I ask, easily taking my cock into your mouth.”

“I-it’s becau-! I love you!” You panted as you felt Mammon hit your spot.

Mammon knew you loved him but it really was different hearing how you were only like this because you loved him. He smiled at you and sweetly kissed you on your mouth as he carried you in his arms.

“Ma--” You cut off by his dick thrusting in you deeper. You were vaguely aware that your shorts had already slipped off your leg and your underwear was already ruined.

“I love you too” Mammon said as he vigorously fucked your hole and you could only hold on tightly on his shoulders as you stopped bothering to lower your voice.

The sounds of wet flesh slapping, along with your lustful moans filled the darkened alley. You weren’t aware of the passage of time, nor did you care about the fact that there were often footsteps that would stop at the mouth of the alley. All you cared about was the feeling of Mammon fucking you and the undeniable smell of his come covering your body.

All your clothes had ended up on the ground, you were naked while Mammon still had his clothes on, not that you mind since there was something erotic about the picture it presented to any voyeur that was brave enough to risk Mammon’s ire. Your legs had grown weak after the 15th round and you were only dazedly looking at air as Mammon fucked you from behind, his previous comes dripping down your hole and between your legs. Some had formed a puddle directly on the ground beneath your hole.

Your neck and shoulders were filled with love bites, and most of your skin was sticky with dried cum. You felt Mammon slow down on his thrust and then the familiar wet heat of his cum filled your inside.

You looked at him in question, watching him observe his masterful lewd work that was you.

“Already?” You asked him slightly frowning.

Mammon only looked at you helplessly fond and doting before he began to dress you up, fingers teasing your overstimulated nerves but keeping it at that, “We still need to go home in time for the curfew.”

You pouted but nonetheless let him do as he pleased, though you did squirm a little bit as he zip up your shorts and teasing you once more by rubbing his hand on your crotch through the fabric.

Soaking the crotch are with the mixture of his and your cum. You whined at him, “Can’t we continue at a love hotel?”

Mammon said nothing beyond a teasing smile as he lad you out of the alley, you were limping slightly as you leaned completely on his side and steadfastly ignored the looks the demons were giving you nor did you pay any mind on the undeniable dribble of cum that was between your legs.

What mattered was that Mammon had forgotten about the events earlier and you were getting railed again once both of you got home.

The next morning you woke up on Mammon’s arms and experienced the feeling of being a pampered wife who got railed so good. Mammon had sat you on his lap and fed you as you weakly laid on his chest and ignored the judgmental looks Lucifer was giving you. Chances were, he had already found out about the semi-public sex you and Mammon did.

But you were well-fed and satiated so you put it on the back of your mind as you planned to get things done for Mammon’s surprise. So the time you spent away from Mammon, physically since you were sending him sexy pics and basically having sext with him, was allotted for writing the letters for him. Special ones that would last for years even when you would no longer be alive.

You carefully wrote each letter and made sure that in each and everyone of it had all your overflowing love for him. You wrote him a letter for every conceivable event that you could thought of, until it went from emotions he would feel into situations he would get in until it became for his everyday life.

With each letter you wrote, you couldn’t help but be envious of the people he’d get to meet after you were gone. The selfish part of you that wanted to remain inside his heart for as long as he lived. You could only sigh at your helplessness, there was no guarantee that you would live forever and that you could be with him till he died.

You didn’t know if he would remember you clearly or slowly fade away from his memories. So you decided to give him this indelible words that carried your most fervent wish of being able to stay by his side for eternity.

You wrote and wrote, pouring all of the words that you could never say and to cowardly to speak aloud and instead let it hang on the air. In between the moments when Mammon would catch your eye and you’d look at him and see his love that overflows, in the brief moments of silence where you would hold onto him tightly afraid of him leaving you, in those dark days that you almost lost him and still foolishly unaware that you had come to love him.

The words you kept inside you flowed from your heart and mind and into the tips of your fingers, as you wrote page after page of love letters for Mammon. You let the papers dry and lovingly folded it into the golden envelopes and sealed it with a red wax seal that held your initials.

You placed it inside your jewelry box and hid it.

The door to your room opened and you turned around, seeing Mammon you couldn’t help but smile widely as you called for his name.

You rushed to hug him and Mammon peppered your face with kisses. You let yourself soak up the warmth of his love and decided to no longer think of the distant future that you feared the most.

Mammon had always known that you loved him the most in the entire world. It was hard not to, when you were always out rightly favoring him, always treating him so much better than the others and you would always tell it to him. There was no room for doubt when it came to your love.

And Mammon loved you as well, your flaws and everything because it was what made you human. You weren’t a saint or a holy mother, he didn’t care about your cruel streak that only ever existed in defense of him and his brothers nor did he mind the days you would stick to him relentlessly as if you were afraid he would be gone. He didn’t mind your moments of jealousy, the instances when you’d cut someone with your words.

You had left a mark on his heart that would never fade away, you had made him yours in the way no one would be able to do so. He smiled at the pieces of memory you had left him, proof of your existence in a world that changed much too fast and much too slow for someone like him.

Your bones had withered and turned into dust, you were no longer by his side, all three realms was co-existing peacefully, you lasted long enough to see Diavolo’s dreams to bear fruit, you stayed long enough to hold your great grand children in your arms but even so it still wasn’t enough for him. His greedy heart that was only ever content with you in his arms. But even so Mammon could still remember your voice, the inflections on the words you spoke, the way your eyes glittered with happiness upon seeing his face.

He looked at the wrinkled and yellowed letter you had left him. The last among the letters you wrote for him since the first birthday you had celebrated with him. -

Dear Mammon,

If you’re reading this letter then that would mean I’m no longer by your side. Somehow even with the centuries I’ve spent with you, the thought that I am no longer by your side still makes me cry. You’ve influenced me too much that I became greedy of you.

Have you eaten yet? Are you sleeping well? Are you taking care of yourself?

Don’t mope around anymore, by time you reached this letter centuries would have passed since I died. I know I said I can’t accept you having someone else after me and I was happy that you went along with my selfish wish but even so...I don’t want you to miss out on another great love. I’m already happy with all the years you’ve given me even if it was just a fraction of what you lived and you will live.

I’m really scared that you’d forget me easily and I still want to live longer and be by your side I love you so much that I’m afraid what would happen to you once I’m gone. Mammon, my most beloved demon, I’m sorry I had to leave you first. But even so I’m selfishly happy that I would never know what a world without you would be. I’m weak and cowardly even so you loved this part of me that desperately held onto you, you loved me even if you knew that between the two of us I’ve forgotten how to live without you.

I knew you like the back of my hand, so familiar and foreign at the same time. In all the years I’ve spent writing you letters filled with words that I could never say aloud, I’ve come to accept that I only knew of love because of you. It’s a scary thought, knowing that if I hadn’t meet you...I wouldn’t have given love a chance. I would have live my years not knowing the warmth of your embrace or peace that your presence brought to me.

Thank you for giving me a family that I love and loves me in return, I was so happy when I bore you our third child. Do you remember? I cried that time because he looked so much liked you, he had your eyes and your nose, and then he had your laugh and smile. Our eldest daughter was so happy then, finally having a human passing brother. Number 2 was so pouty that day but even so I was happy with our little family.

There’s a lot of things I want to write to you in this final letter but my hands are already shaking. Our Little Ds of Greed are scampering around right now while I’m writing this. I can’t help but laugh a little bit, my heart feels a bit sour. You’re sleeping soundly right now by my side and I love you so much, that even if my lungs hurt and my body aches so much I want to spend the last moments of my life telling you how much I love you.

I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love the way you’d get into trouble and come to me for help. I love the days you’d let me chase away your nightmares. I love how you patiently waited for me to return to your side. I love how you always tell me you love in the little ways. I love how you never let me wake up in a cold empty bed. I love you. I love you from the moment you ran towards me. I love you until now.

I love you in this life, and if there is a next life for me, I’ll love you there as well. I love you in every world there is that I exist with you. I love you in all infinite possibilities of this universe and the next.

I love you, my Mammon. And I will begone but even if I am no longer by your side I would still love you. I would love you even if my mind and heart forgets because whatever it was that our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.

So live well and fall in love with the world again, my cherished and inevitable downfall.

Yours in Eden.

#mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #mammon x mc #obey me mammon x mc #mammon #obey me

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ohmyasmodeus · 4 years

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𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 (𝐈) ☾ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴

i feel like we can all agree that we arent over the paws event ! i couldn’t stop myself from writing something self indulgent and more like the fantasy fiction i primarily write ♡ these are a little longer than what i usually do so be warned!

lucifer + mammon (i) ☾ leviathan + satan + asmodeus (ii) ☾ beelzebub + belphegor (iii)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙧

Wrought iron. The dark woods that surrounded your reclusive village were like wrought iron palisades of tangled branches. You’d grown up with the stories. The heavy mist that obscured the distant trees quietly suffocated those in its reach, the thorny brambles flayed flesh from unlucky limbs, and there was no way out of the labyrinth of the hinterland. Or so they say. You were more than sure that these rumours were nothing but hamfisted attempts by your elders to make you and the rest of the villagers stay. As if you would let them. You were sick of it. One day, you were going to find a way out of this backwater village. You were going to explore the world beyond flimsy folk tales and primitive traditions.

However, there was one thing that kept you wondering— howling outside your window. You would hear them at night, eerie howls that almost crossed into humanlike screams of agony. They would come in the middle of the night, freezing your breath in your chest and you would stare out the window with your wide eyes, gazing at the moon through the mist that obscured the distant treeline. It was the worst in the winter, when the howling chilled the blood in your veins and the winter air stripped you from any warmth.

By the next winter, you had long since gotten sick of your suffocating village. You had long forgotten about the howling as well, and only remembered as you were in the middle of booking it through the woods on impulse. All you knew is that you had to leave, to finally cut yourself free from the ties that bind. The mists parted for you, the brambles crunched harmlessly underfoot while your breath escaped in light clouds of steam, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the howling. You had always assumed a wild animal made them, just to put your worries at rest. But alone in the cold… you wondered.

Alone in the cold, you were so easy to corner. Lucifer had sensed the intrusion from the moment you stepped into his enclave. Through your terrified tears, you could barely see the dark skies past the massive shoulders, the raven-black fur that ruffled with the winter winds. You were nothing like the humans he’d encountered in the past. Humans that intended to hunt his kind came with knives and war cries, but you held yourself innocent with nothing but a half-filled knapsack on your back. Curiously, Lucifer smelled you, nudging your tears away with his wet nose.

“You must be lost,” he says in his silken voice, quiet to keep you calm. He rises to sit before you in his full height, and gently nudges you with his nose once more when you shiver and wipe your eyes. “I won’t hurt you. Tell me, what’s your name?”

And you tell him. Then you tell him through your now frustrated tears all about your village, about everything you have been trying to run away from, and his thick fur keeps you warm as you walk together through the night. He warns you that the way is long and the night grows dangerous, but nothing hampers your determination to leave the life that you once knew. Lucifer finds himself obliged to follow as an escort.

✧ A proud wolf, Lucifer is an natural leader. He dedicates himself to fiercely defending his territory and his pack, which over time seems to grow to include you as an exception. You see it in his eyes, the way his hackles raise and his eyes narrow by the firelight when he senses trouble in the vicinity, the way he curls around you when you settle down like a shield against the harsh winter. He talks to you by the fire, curious about your experiences and destination. Though, make no mistake— he nips at you when you try to stroke his soft fur or ears. He refuses to be treated like a pet. (Although it’s fairly easy to try to ease him into it. Toss him a slab of cured meat from your knapsack and he might just let you scratch behind an ear.)

✧ Do not forget that his treatment of you is a privilege. An exception. The stark contrast of crimson that drenches into the pale snow reminds you of it when you forget. Lucifer spares but a moment before viciously sinking his teeth into any other humans not as a killing blow, but a warning. There is no hesitation before he tears people apart, spilling bile and gore in front of you, the wild look in his eyes making you stumble backwards. You steal the shotguns from the bloody corpses with shaking hands. You hear his chilling howl in person for the first time after a fresh kill, the harsh sound a warning for other predators. This is his territory.

✧ He is there for you when the nights grow long, and your heart grows so heavy that all you can do is bury your face into his fur and feel his steady breathing. He hunts for you, bringing you fresh fish as the lakes slowly start to thaw out. One time, he drags you an entire elk carcass that has you balking at the sheer size, and sits by it proudly with a wagging tail as if awaiting your praise. He lets you reward him with a kiss on his snout, but just this once.

✧ Lucifer doesn’t care to subscribe to the moon’s cycle, defying it by haughtily wearing his wolf pelt across his shoulders like a mantle in his human form. In his human form, you see the scars that still dig into his flesh, revealed by gaps in his collar and clothes. His large hands are calloused, tipped with obsidian nails that almost resemble claws. But they never touch you. Lucifer never touches you with anything but the firm affectionate touches of a lover. His teeth remain deadly sharp, but they only nip playfully to rile you up.

✧ “Stay. You don’t have to keep running,” he mumbles as he drapes the pelt across your shoulders and kisses your neck. You sink into his warmth. “Not with me.”

♡ 𝙢𝙖𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙣

A simple life had always been enough for you. There was a great pride to be taken in the life you had built for yourself, a great escape surrounded by lavender and wheat fields and mountainsides smattered with wildflowers. Your farm stood proud, tilled fields thriving in the welcoming sun. There was nothing you would want to change, not the wonderful solitude, nor the hard work you set aside for yourself. Not even the wildlife bothered you. You welcomed the creatures you often found wandering through your fields, completely naïve to human contact. And the nature that surrounded you welcomed you in the same way.

Though the fresh blood you soon found spilled only a little beyond the livestock pens made you think otherwise.

A predator, surely. The sheep had been startled but only a few had gone missing, a sign of a desperate animal. You shook the instinctual fear away and decided to trek across the property to try and reinforce some of the fences you had built to keep most of the wildlife out. But once you found the large hole that had been torn through a wire fence that separated your farm from the rest of the wilderness, you weren’t sure how effective your reinforcing would be.

No matter how strong your fences were or how high you built up the fences that kept the sheep in, every now and then, you would notice a lamb or two gone. It was far from a devastating amount, but those were your livestock… Yet, life persisted. The predator never seemed to cause too much of a ruckus or tried to break into your home, so you were confident in your ability to continue farming. The charming landscape and the work you had put into your farm were things that you simply couldn’t give up on.

A lazy hand wipes the sweat from your brow as you set your tools down for the day. Darkness fell across the fields and bathed you in its cooling winds, the receding dusk tinting the velvet skies a charming pink. All is well once more. You stand and stretch, before leaning back on the wooden fence behind you to watch the bright stars wink into appearance. Everything seems so different from the city life that you had known before… and you’re happy. Well, up until you decide to turn to see how your sheep are doing.

You don’t even register the danger you’re in before you start yelling.

“What the fuck are you doing? Put it down!” Silvery fur stands on end when you yell from across the fence, the large wolf looking at you like a deer caught in headlights as it tries to drag away a helpless struggling lamb. You jump the fence and land loudly. “I said put it down!”

The wolf stares at you for a tense second before reluctantly opening its jaw. The lamb kicks it in the snout as it desperately wiggles away, and the wolf whimpers softly before putting a paw over its snout as if to soothe it, and it strikes you as so odd— its eyes are too smart, too aware to be just any animal. Its ears pin themselves back in shame, just like its gait as it gets up to try and weasel away from its crimes. And you’re pretty sure you just heard it mutter an ‘Oh, shit’.

✧ Mammon is more than aware of the power he has. It would be easy to kill all your livestock in one night and kill you along with them, but that’s not something that interests him very much. He honestly just wanted to see how much he could steal without you coming after him, and whether he could steal from right under your nose. He still is a greedy wolf, after all, but he leaves all the territorial business to Lucifer, much preferring to mess around with unlucky humans.

✧ And yet, for all the power he brags to you about having, he’s about as dangerous as a teacup puppy. He isn’t a fan of hurting humans, and the only thing you really have to do to get him to stop stealing your sheep is to feed him slabs of meat every time he comes by. Pavlov him enough and he’ll come running when you yell his name out the front door expecting dinner and a nice side of milk to accompany it. He likes the company too, and the way you two can watch the moon while having dinner in your fields together.

✧ “Aww, aren’t you the hungriest puppy!” You coo over him as you toss him slabs of raw meat, thankfully from cattle that you decided to cull this time, and he catches them expertly midair. “Good boy!”

“I ain’t a damn dog! I’ll eat you next!” Mammon protests. He could easily stop indulging you, but he’s immediately leaping the moment he sees you throw another hunk of meat. Your praise makes his ears perk up in the sweetest way and his tail wag so hard you’re almost afraid it might fall off. For all his whining about being one of the most terrifying werewolves, he instantly melts the moment you dig your fingers into his thick silver fur and give him a scritch. He rolls over without hesitation just so you can give him a good belly rub, letting you see how adorable he is when he kicks his leg in enjoyment.

✧ Mammon definitely has a habit of covering you with his scent. He nuzzles his face into you at any opportunity, often leaving your clothes dusted with his pale fur, just because you bring out his need to mark his territory. He won’t have anyone else putting their dirty paws on you!

✧ For as much as he acts like he’s already domesticated around you, he loves dragging you along to see the wilder side of things— running through the fields with you desperately clinging to his back at midnight, finding himself caught up in the adrenaline as he playfully bites at you and pins you down when you two play fight. He’s still a wild wolf at heart, and loves it when you two howl at the moon together. The woods is where he first pulls you into a heated kiss once the sun peaks over the mountains and turns him human.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

context for mammon’s love of sheep ♡

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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kuiperblog · 3 years

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Feel-good “bad ends”

Movie protagonists are often breaking the rules. This is true even when our protagonists are on the right side of the law: after all, nobody’s perfect. (And if they were, we probably wouldn’t like them as much: after all, it’s hard for a character to have a “growth arc” if they start from a place of perfection. And making occasional mistakes reminds us that, just like us, they’re only human: they’re more relatable.)

But when our protagonists break the rules, it often leads toward one of two different endings: either they get caught and punished for their transgressions (which can make for a feelbad ending), or they get away with it scot-free. Most movies opt for the latter, but it can often feel unsatisfying, because there’s a real sense in which we want to see our protagonists reap the consequences of their actions.

Usually, it’s not a problem for them to suffer the consequences if their transgression is minor. For example, if the main character says something mean to his love interest, he can get a slap in the face -- and having paid for his transgressions, he can then immediately be rewarded with whatever feel-good conclusion the audience is in the mood for.

However, sometimes the protagonist’s transgressions are more dire, and demand more dire consequences. Recently, I’ve found two movies that manage to end with something that is, in an objective sense, a very bad outcome for the main characters, and exactly in proportion to what they deserve for their significant transgressions during the film, yet still allows for a “feel-good” ending. Naming those examples would by itself probably be a spoiler, so...spoilers for an Edgar Wright movie and a Pixar movie (and a Rocky movie) below the fold.

Heist movies are the classic example of a movie formula where the protagonists break a ton of rules and, in the case of a feelgood ending, basically can’t suffer any consequences. Either they get caught and it’s a moral aesop about how crime doesn’t pay, or they get away with it and we’re happy that our characters, who are really quite morally virtuous apart from their tendency to commit acts of robbery, are able to enjoy the spoils they’ve absconded with.

Baby Driver is a movie that I think strikes the perfect balance. In the end, our main character Baby doesn’t get away with his crimes. He’s committed a lot of crimes, and been involved in a lot of robberies. And not the non-violent kind, either!

At the same time, Baby was always “one of the good ones.” He was never the guy who held the gun; he was always the one behind the wheel. In fact, for basically his entire criminal career, he was blackmailed into it. Of course, the lazy method would be for the judge to have pity on him -- he was forced to commit crimes! But that would be ignoring the fact that the entire reason he got blackmailed in the first place is that he happened to steal a car from a criminal kingpin -- Baby was boosting cars well before a villain put a gun to his head and forced him to do it.

But as we see Baby marched to his prison cell, it’s intercut with testimony during his trial. Everything that we could have said in Baby’s defense is articulated by witnesses speaking in his defense:

“He got himself into a bad spot. I was just trying to get him out. I believe the defendant is of good character. He didn't deserve what happened to him.”

“It was the strangest thing. Before he drove off, he threw my purse right at me. Then he actually said ‘I'm sorry.’” (A delightful callback to a comedic moment earlier in the movie: Baby might resort to carjacking when he’s in a pinch, but he is the most polite carjacker you will ever meet. He doesn’t need your valuables; he just needs a getaway vehicle.)

“He made a mistake when he was younger, and it's haunted him ever since. When he tried to get out, he was pressured even harder. It was never his fault. He's got a good heart. Always has. Always will.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Sky Ferreira’s cover of Lionel Richie’s “Easy Like Sunday Morning” is the musical bed for this scene, but there’s something about the scene that feels incredibly cathartic. Baby Driver might be our protagonist, but he’s not innocent in all of this. His actions have consequences, and he gets sentenced to prison time for them.

At the same time, we’re left with the distinct impression that he has a life waiting for him on the outside. At the very least, Deborah is there waiting for him.

We can rest assured that Baby has no desire to return to a life of crime -- he and Deborah will be content with a modest life together. Indeed, a “modest life” is never something that either of them would need to settle for. Having a quiet simple life has been their aspiration for as long as they’ve known each other. Baby ends the movie knowing that he has years of prison time ahead of him, but also knowing that he’s on the start of a path to redemption. It’s enough to put a skip in his step as he walks across the prison yard. (Well, maybe not a literal skip in his step, but at the very least, it’s written on his face: he feels good about the path he’s on.)

Baby Driver came out in 2017, but I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. I think the ending is a big part of what keeps me coming back to it. I love this ending -- there’s really nothing like the catharsis of seeing Baby held to account for his actions, while also having his virtues acknowledged. Those virtues might not be enough for him to avoid punishment, but in a way, his virtue its its own reward. It’s a heist movie that ends with the main character getting caught and spending years behind bars, and yet it’s an incredibly feelgood ending that just leaves you satisfied for all the right reasons. (After all, we’ve seen the fate of Baby’s confederates: we know that he could have encountered fates much worse than prison.) There’s really nothing like it.

Well, almost nothing. Last night I finally got around to watching Monsters University.

It’s a fun movie -- the central plot is the classic “underdog sports story.” Mike Wazowski has no talent for scaring -- according to the bigshot jock voiced by Nathan Fillion, the only way someone like Mike could end up working at a place like Monsters Inc is in the mailroom. Of course, because this is a prequel, we know that Mike’s story ends with him and Sulley being best buds together working at the Monsters Inc scream factory, so the odds can’t be that stacked against them, right? After all, the stakes are too high for them to fail: besides the fact that they need to be ready for the events of Monsters Inc, Mike is able to parley for a chance to get into the university’s scare program only because he makes an agreement with the Dean that if he fails, he’ll leave the school. With stakes that high, it seems only inevitable that Mike and Sulley will fulfill the classic underdog trope and lead a team of lovable losers to victory through sheer force of will (and the power of friendship).

Except, as we find out, force of will and the power of friendship aren’t enough to win you the big game when the thing you’re being tested on is talent and athleticism. Mike gets to experience the triumph of victory...but quickly learns that it only happened because Sulley cheated.

Mike and Sulley both bit off more than they could chew, and made a number of poor choices along the way. Sulley, unable to accept loss, cheated to achieve victory. Mike, unable to cope with experiencing loss, breaks into the university’s door department to mope around in the human world -- which is strictly verboten and extremely dangerous.

But...in the course of solving the problem that they’ve created themselves (combining their efforts to escape the human world by using scare techniques the likes of which have never been seen before), we learn that Mike and Sulley do have what it takes. The Dean recognizes it, too. It almost feels like she’s about to offer them leniency. After all, this is a prequel movie: we know that all of this has to end with Mike and Sulley working at Monsters Inc in the scare department, right? That means the Dean has to let them back into the university’s scare program! Surely their acts of daring and bravery show they have what it takes to make it in the Monsters University scare program!

And so it comes as no surprise when, at the end of the third act, the Dean comes out just as they’re about to depart. We see what looks like a smile on her face for the first time in the movie.

Except, of course, it would be crazy if they got off scot-free. Mike broke into the human world, which is about the worst possible thing a monster can do. And if the cheating scandal weren’t enough to sink Sulley, there’s also the fact that he followed Mike into the human world (his intentions were noble as he wanted to save his friend, but still extremely dangerous and just as verboten).

The Dean has nothing but kind things to say to them. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to rescue them from the consequences of their actions.

The two get no leniency. We feel an odd mixture of elation and defeat. On one hand, they got the validation that they craved: the Dean, who thought it was impossible for Mike Wazowski to ever be a scarer, now admits that she may have misjudged him. On the other hand, their lives are ruined. They must now reap what they have sown. What will become of their dreams now? And maybe more importantly, how the heck are we supposed to get from here to the events of the original movie that takes place several years later in the Monsters Inc chronology?

And then, Mike remembers something.

“You know, there is still one way we can work at a scare company. They’re always hiring in the mail room.”

Mike and Sulley start at the absolute bottom rung of the corporate ladder. But there are worse fates than doing blue collar work. After all, the entire theme of the underdog sports story that got us to this point was to show that Mike (and, with Mike’s encouragement, also Sulley) are the kind of monsters who will do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams, simply willing it to happen through sheer enthusiasm and force of will and, of course, the power of friendship. After all, anything can be fun when you’re doing it with your friends. As Sulley says, “This is better than I ever imagined!” They approach the job with an enthusiasm that tells us that they’re on their way up within this company.

The rest of their journey is shown to us in montage:

They’ve got that ambition, baby. This week they’re mopping floors, next week it’s the fries:

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the company holds “try-outs” for the scare team, and from there, the rest is history. Plus, if the original movie is fresh enough in your mind, you’ll appreciate the easter egg references to the girlfriend that Mike met during this time (and the constant beratement he constantly got over needing to file his paperwork):

Over the course of the movie, they made some good decisions -- mostly the ones relating to the power of friendship and hard work. They also made some bad decisions -- mostly relating to playing fast-and-loose with the rules of their institution. Their college careers come to an unceremonious end.

And yet, even though the movie ends with them getting kicked out of college and spending “the best years of their lives” working blue collar jobs, it feels like an undeniably happy ending for the two of them. They reap exactly what they sow -- for worse, and for better. They don’t get to hide from the consequences of their actions...but that doesn’t mean things have to end on a dour note.

There’s something I really dig about that. It feels exactly like the first Rocky movie: Rocky is an athlete who trained and tried and fought as hard as he could -- and still lost. And yet, though he lost the big boxing match, there’s dignity in his loss. And in the end, he succeeded at the thing that really mattered.

In all three of these movies, it feels as though we as the audience are being set up for a specific happy ending. Of course Baby Driver has to end with the getaway driver getting away. Of course Monsters University has to end with Mike and Sulley graduating from the scare program. Of course Rocky has to end with our main character winning the big climactic boxing match. But in the end, we don’t get these “obvious” endings, because getting them wouldn’t really be a reflection of everything that led up to that point. And yet, we don’t walk away disappointed, because we somehow get something better. These characters may not get the “obvious” reward, the thing that they thought they wanted (and the thing that we, as the audience, thought that we wanted). But they get the things that really matter.

#movies #edgar wright #pixar

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salt-warrior · 3 years

Text

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Five: Human Error

"Mr. Crown!" Lights burned Kai's eyes as they shot open. His arms stung and his eyes were wet. He didn't recognize his bedroom— and maybe that was because it wasn't his bedroom. "Mr. Crown, wake up!"

Kai stared up at Iko, his nurse. Her golden eyes shone bright in contrast with her dark skin. Her blue braids bouncing as she skipped towards Kai.

"You lazy slug, wake up!" Iko shrieked, losing the formality. Kai longed for ear plugs. He wanted to sleep, but knew that it would be impossible with Iko freaking out.

"What do you want, Iko?" Kai rubbed at his eyes. His aura seemed distressed; he had had a bad dream. He knew from experience. But he could never seem to remember them when he woke up, leaving him to wonder what terrible torture his mind had come up with. Was it his mother? Was it drowning in the ocean? Had he been kidnapped? Kai would never know.

Iko rolled her eyes at him, but smoothed down his covers with a motherly sort of affection. Another pang in Kai's heart. "Mr. Crown, it's Selene." She didn't elaborate on her statement.

Panic like Kai had never felt burst from within. "What happened? Is she okay? What's going on?" Kai leapt from his bed, shoving the sheets into a whirlwind of mess. Iko grabbed him around the shoulders to stop him, and he winced. The burns he had weren't too bad, and the worst of it were on his forearms. However; it still hurt to have Nurse Iko's maniac grip digging into his tender pink flesh.

"Sorry!" Iko exclaimed. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but I need you to calm down. Let me explain." Kai sat, his hands twitching and heart hammering. "Selene is stable and ready for visitors. Do you want to–"

"Of course I want to see her! Let's go!" Kai hopped from the hospital bed as if it were on fire. He grabbed his nurse by the hand and she laughed, a beautiful rich sound, as he dragged her into the hallway.

Three wrong turns and five near collisions later, and Kai was standing in the severe burns ward outside of Selene's door. His heart hammered with excitement, but also nervousness. He began to fear what was on the other side of the door. How would she look after nearly being burned alive?

"Don't be scared." Iko squeezed Kai's hand comfortingly. He grimaced at her. "It's never pretty, but we've had a lot worse than her. She's lucky to have such amazing care. The skin transplant helped with the worst of it, Dr. Tanner and Dr. Benoit are the best of the best."

Kai nodded his head, turning the knob on the door at the same time. He felt hopeful but never released Iko's hand. She would have to be his anchor during this.

Immediately the stench of burned flesh beat Kai backwards. He felt sick, but continued forward. He stepped forward and saw the girl whom he had saved. Iko patted him on the back comfortingly before leaving him to check the monitor standing beside the bed. So much for being his anchor.

Selene's hair had been burned shorter in some parts, certain chunks only reached her shoulders. Bandages covered her skin, and through the sheer sheets Kai could tell that one leg ended a foot shorter than the other. Kai's own burns throbbed in empathy, and nausea clouded everything else from his senses. He needed to get out. He needed to be away from the reminder of his mistake.

Rushing from the room, Kai fell in the hallway, dry heaving. He covered his eyes, pressing his palms into the sockets hard. Iko came out of the room, kneeling beside him. She patted his back, telling him that it would all be okay, but Kai knew that it wouldn't. This was all of his fault. He needed to get out of the hospital before he lost it.

"Iko," Kai panted, unable to catch his breath. "Iko, I need a phone."

***

"It's all my fault." Kai wept into his hands, no longer caring about appearances. He was sitting in a twenty-four hour service café with Thorne, swirling a mug of cocoa with a spoon. He had called Thorne after seeing the damage his slow actions had caused. Thorne had come immediately, not caring that it was six in the morning—which was true friendship.

Thorne set down his own mug of coffee, rubbing his eyes. "Kai, buddy, this was not your fault." Thorne rarely called Kai by his first name.

"But it was!" Kai threw his hands in the air. A sob escaped him, and he didn't even care as the few waiters and waitresses stared at him. "I was stupid, and left her there to burn. I may as well have lit her on fire or chopped her leg off. I did this to her!"

"If you really believe that, then you're stupid." Thorne picked up a bagel and munched on it, as though he didn't have a single care in the world. "She doesn't deserve what happened to her, but it's not your fault, Kai. Aces, it wasn't even that Levana characters' fault. No one could have helped this situation."

Kai hiccuped and stared at his own blueberry muffin with disdain. He didn't have much of an appetite after all he had seen. "But I could have gotten to her before the fire started. I should have gone to her first. I could have–"

"Okay, let's clear up the could-have-would-have-should-have's, okay?" Thorne put up a hand to stop Kai's rant. "You're not superman. You're not Mr. Incredible. You are human, and with that comes human error. You don't get to be perfect, and if the girl blames you for what happened, that's her problem."

"But I could have done better." Kai whimpered.

Thorne sighed, slightly annoyed. "Okay, here's a different analogy. You're Batman." Kai perked up a bit; Batman was his all-time favorite superhero. "In The Dark Knight the Joker kidnaps both Rachel and Harvey. Batman wanted to save Rachel— he should have, but he was tricked. He saved Harvey instead, and felt terrible about it forever and never forgave himself."

"Yes, it would have made more sense to save Selene first, but you were in shock. You went for the other person—your brain tricked you— and Selene got hurt because of it. The whole ordeal sucks, but you can't change the past. You might as well stop beating yourself up over it, because it's never going to change."

Kai bit his lip and nodded. Thorne's speech made him feel a little bit better, but not much. His guilt ate at his insides, but Thorne was right; you couldn't change the past. But he could make the future, and he could still help Selene.

"I think..." Kai picked at his muffin absentmindedly. "I think I'm going to try and contact her Foster Family. See if I can find anyone who knew her. I don't want her to be alone. " Kai's voice cracked on the last word. He didn't know what it felt like to be completely alone. He always had his father and Thorne and Torin and dozens of other people who would look after him. He had the world, and this girl didn't even have a thought from another person. She deserved to have the love of her family or someone who knew and loved her.

"That's an excellent idea, but I thought the family didn't want anything to do with her." Thorne reasoned, stealing Kai's muffin. He ate half of it in a single bite, and Kai stared in awe. Thorne, as always, was the pessimist. Kai would just have to talk to them. How could anyone refuse to help another person after they nearly died?

Determination swelled within Kai's heart. He had a goal, and when his mind was set, he could accomplish anything. "I'll make them come to reason."

***

The casket was too large for someone so small. The day was too bright for something so sad. Not enough people had come to say goodbye to a person so wonderful. Everything was wrong, and Selene couldn't do anything about it.

Flowers rested in abundance around the grave. Selene wished that she could change the past. She wanted to save her sister, but it was too late— it was all her fault.

She should have called for help sooner, but the shock of the entire situation had thrown her off. If she had only payed more attention. If only her senses hadn't frozen up. If only she could have saved the girl who had treated her like family.

"Why are you even here?" Selene spun around. Her gaze was met by her other sister. She looked down. "You're the reason why she's dead. You killed her." Pearl Linh snarled at Selene viciously. Her heart twinged, knowing that she was right.

"I– I just w-wanted to say goodbye." Selene stuttered, pushing down the tears. Pearl herself didn't look upset, but that may have just been the anger consuming her features. "I loved her just the same as you."

Pearl scoffed. "Please, you don't even know what love is." She bared her teeth like she was going to bite Selene. "How could you? No one has ever loved you. That's why no family would keep you for more than a couple of months." The words were like a knife in the gut. They were confirmation of all that Selene had always thought.

No one had ever wanted Selene. She wasn't a troublemaker— or at least she didn't try to be. Trouble just seemed to follow her in the form of a ghost, and people seemed to have a hard time accepting that. The Foster Homes were hard, but constantly jumping from place to place for over ten years was rough on a person.

"I would feel bad for you, but I can now I can see why no one would ever want you. You're a horrible, cruel monster. You killed my little sister— and for what? She never asked for it. She was only a child, but you killed her." Pearl grabbed Selene with both hands, digger her nails ravenously into Selene's arms and breaking the skin. "You're a monster; incapable of love and never to be loved. I hope you're happy, because you're never going to have anyone. You'll die alone someday, and no one will ever mourn your death."

Blood pooled from tiny crescents in Selene's skin. Pearl tilted her head at the marks, smirking in appreciation of her work, before walking off to join her parents. Selene didn't even wipe the blood away, because she knew; she deserved all the pain in the world.

#when earth turns to ashes #wetta #kaider #kaider fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #marissa meyer #tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #linh cinder #selene blackburn #prince kai #emperor kai #kinder #ship #otp #salt warrior stories

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achtung-attitude · 4 years

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CHAPTER 37: Weezer - Part 2

Kilo struggles to his feet at the bottom of a hole that did not exist ten seconds ago. Toto watches him from the rim of the hole, smiling easily without any hint of malice.

The enemy rubs his eyebrow with a spidery finger and explains, “Five years ago, yeah? There was an accident,” he says, as if sitting across from Kilo in a bar booth, “They was setting up some sort of overhead sound system or whatever, and they ended up droppin’ a couple tons of equipment from the ceiling. Made a hole in the floor. Right here, dig? The convention centre administrators were too cheap to fix it right, so they just covered the hole with plaster. Came back to bite ‘em in the ass though, cause eventually that hole opened up into a sinkhole that swallowed up six people!”

Kilo glares up at him as he chuckles, continuing his lackadaisical monologue. “Moral of the story? It all comes back to you. No matter how deep you bury ‘em, every misfortune stacks up, until it blows up in yo’ face. My WEEZER… is just what ignites it. I told ya, you’d only get one chance to walk.”

By the time he’s finished, Kilo is back on his feet, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “I don’t give a shit,” he declares, then SATURN BARZ drives its taloned fingers into the wall of the pit. The Stand gouges a cleft of dry rock from the wall, and the wall begins to bubble and froth, turning into a thick, gravelly sludge. This effect extends upwards, reaching the rim of the pit.

“Whuh--?” Toto says, as the ground he’s standing dissolves into a sheer mudslide, and his feet are caught up in the muck. He bolts upright, flailing his arms to keep his balance.

But while he focuses on this, Kilo ascends from the hole, having been raised up by SATURN BARZ. He grabs a fistful of Toto’s hoodie and pulls himself forward. Toto is pulled in the opposite direction, losing his balance and tumbling forward into his own pit trap. Kilo lands on the edge of the hole in a crouch at the same moment Toto hits the bottom, standing submerged up to his waist in liquid concrete. With a swift whirl of its hands, SATURN BARZ reverts the mudslide back into solid concrete, trapping his opponent in solid stone.

“Uhh--” Toto utters, not entirely sure what has just happened to him.

“Some nightmare!” Kilo taunts at him, “Damn. And here I was expecting a challenge outta you. What a joke!”

Before the Congregation assassin can say anything back, Kilo gets up and walks away, amidst a Convention floor in various stages of agony. Upwards of 300 people roll around groaning in pain, while others, unaffected, either run about or stand struck dumb, helpless among the sudden horror.

“Jesus…” he mutters, rushing to attend to Moya. The cold sweat that formed on her flesh as a result of WEEZER’s touch has now developed into a corpse-like pallor that’s turned her bronze skin to a sickly gray. “What the hell’s happening to you?” he asks, kneeling to help her up.

“I-it’s Toto’s ability…” she answers after a brief coughing fit and spitting an absurd volume of green mucus. Her voice is scratchy, and her breath is short and shallow, but she takes his hand nonetheless, and drapes her over his shoulders.

Kilo places the back of his hand on her forehead, then pulls it back quickly. “You’re burning up! What ability could do this?!”

“It’s pneumonia…!” she asserts, “Ough, when I was 10, I caught pneumonia after staying out in the rain…! Abuela said not to stay out so long, but I didn’t listen… Agh, doesn’t matter!! Whatever it is, Toto was the one that caused this! I’ve never worked with him before, but… the ability must revive illnesses from your past to harm you in the present…!”

Kilo glances around the convention hall once more, then nods in agreement. “Sure. But what about the sinkhole?”

“Buildings can be damaged, too. And Hotel California demonstrated how a structure can have its own history and will.”

“Right. Alright…” he is quiet for a moment, then he carries her to a nearby column and sits her down against it. “Hang tight,” he says, starting back towards the pit, “I’m gonna finish that muthafucka off.”

“Wait!” Moya cries out, straining her voice. “You need to be cautious! I-if he touches you, then you’ll be caught in his ability too!”

A grin spreads across Kilo’s lips. “Worst I ever got was a cold when I was 6! His ability might be hot shit if you had something bad like you did, but it’ll take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me! Not to mention, he’s enough of a scrub to get himself caught in his own trap! Asshole’s dead-meat already!” He says this as he reaches the rim of the pit, but finds thats Toto is no longer trapped in the concrete.

Right as he begins to search for him, Toto reveals himself, speaking from behind Kilo. “It’s rude to talk ‘bout people behind their backs,” he declares, brushing loose gravel off him, “But, I guess, I got nobody to blame but myself, yeah?”

Kilo and SATURN BARZ whirls around towards their enemy, the Stand forming a spear of solidified oxygen in its hand. It jabs the impromptu icicle at Toto’s throat, but he dodges to the side with a lazy grin on his face. WEEZER manifests in front of him, and reaches for SATURN BARZ with the same blinding speed it showed to WITCH MOUNTAIN. But Kilo is ready, as just before the mangled enemy Stand grabs a hold of his throat, the ice spear suddenly explodes into frigged shrapnel right in Toto’s face.

The Congregation assassin winces as the icy shards pelt him over his body. “AHH!! Damn, that hurts!!” he yelps, and in that moment of distraction, SATURN BARZ lunges for him, claws aimed at his face. Toto gathers himself and sways back with footwork that would make Muhammad Ali proud, and WEEZER jerks a knuckle to the ground.

Kilo’s foot falls in the exact spot where WEEZER touched, and the ground beneath it gives way, opening into another hole, smaller than the first and shallower, only going halfway up his calf. He drops and lands flat-footed. He groans as pangs of pain run up his leg.

“Guess two sinkholes was too good to be true,” Toto says before WEEZER lurches into a new attack.

“Don’t let him touch you!” Moya shouts, watching all of this from her pillar.

With a swift backhand swipe, SATURN BARZ bats WEEZER’s hands out of the way. Toto grunts as heavy ice begins to form on his Stand’s hand and the biting cold effect transfers over to himself. In the meantime, Kilo steps out of the pit trap and puts distance between him and his opponent.

Toto raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it you said? ‘Take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me’. If you ain’t scared of what my WEEZER can do, how come you standing so far away?”

“I’m not scared. But I’m not stupid either and I know you Congregation pricks are full of dirty tricks.”

The Congregation assassin laughs. “Heheheh… That’s pretty smart… Or it would be, if touching you was the only way WEEZER could hurt you.”

WEEZER’s hand flex suddenly, its fingers spreading and shattering the frost forming on its hand. It then launches its entire body in Kilo’s direction with a piercing screech. “BIIISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…”

“Shi--!!” Kilo says, raising SATURN BARZ to guard, but to his surprise, WEEZER sails right over his head and slams its palm into the wide window behind him. Then the glass begins to shudder and vibrate violently, before WEEZER peels away from it, and the window explodes inwards, showering Kilo with a hail of glass.

“AAGH!” he yells, and SATURN BARZ tries to shield its user from the oncoming barrage of glass, but is unable to get them all, as thick shards pierce Kilo in his arm, ribs and thigh.

“That one was an accident too,” Toto calls, “Tropical storm hit Anaheim about ten years ago, tore up a tree that broke a window. Nobody got hurt that time, though!”

Kilo winces as SATURN BARZ dissolves the glass into liquid and his wounds close up into red marks. “Shit!” he thinks, “It’s like his Stand can do anything he wants it to! Even if I don’t let him touch me, if I keep letting him make all the moves, I’m a dead man! There’s gotta be something I can use!!”

He searches with his eyes frantically around the convention hall, hunting for something to gain an advantage over this seemingly impossible enemy. Toto seems perfectly content to simply watch him, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world. Kilo grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

“Hey, come ooon, what’s that look for? I already gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes~…”

Kilo answers with a flick of the wrist from SATURN BARZ, firing shards of solidified water vapor at his opponent. The assassin dodges, then dodges the next batch, and keeps up with Kilo when he starts running down the hall, leaping over afflicted guests and tearing through convention booths.

SATURN BARZ keeps up the attack the whole time, flinging at Toto with frozen projectiles. WEEZER blocks them all with its unmitigated speed, its jaw hanging loose from its skull swinging to and fro with every staccato motion.

Kilo vaults onto a table and SATURN BARZ takes its Olympian stance, forming a great ice javelin in its palm and hurling it at its enemy. It is the same kind as before, set with opposing impulses within its structure so it may explode into a smokescreen, even if WEEZER deflects it. But WEEZER does not deflect it.

Instead, it jerks its right foot underneath a convention guest with angry red spots growing on his face. The unfortunate guest’s body lifts off the ground and WEEZER catches him by the back of his neck, holding him in front of its master. The guest’s eyes clear up for long enough to see the ice spear fly at him before it impales him through his shoulder. He loses consciousness when the spear explodes, turning his wound into a bloody cavity you could see through. Toto is left completely unscathed.

“What… What the fuck did you do?!” Kilo shouts, staring in shock and disgust.

“What did I do? I… protected myself from your attack. What’s it look like?” WEEZER grips its human shield by the neck then tosses it at Kilo, who dives from the table to catch him. When he does, the diseased Stand appears and lunges for him.

“First he uses this guy as a shield, now as a distraction!? This bastard…!!” Kilo thinks. Before WEEZER can lay its mottled hands on him, SATURN BARZ strikes out with a kick to its gut that knocks the wind out of Toto. Kilo then rolls out of its range, clutching the guest’s body.

“You son of a bitch…!” he snarls while SATURN BARZ closes the unconscious guest’s wound, “What’s the matter with you!?! How can you involve innocent people like this?!!”

Toto, as ever, treats his words like a joke, laughing softly. “Haha… It’s just bad luck. It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours. He just happened to be here at the wrong time, and happened to get involved in our little playdate. If you take the time to worry about every little ant you step on, you’d never take another step.”

“You sick fuck…”

“What’re you getting so upset for? Human lives ain’t that big a deal,” the Congregation assassin fixes his posture, recovering from SATURN BARZ strike, “All humans are just vessels for Fate to enact its will. Even Stand users like us. Stands are reflections of the soul, but that doesn’t mean that having one is anything special. They got nothing to do with good or evil, or justice. All it means is that Fate chose us to have a little bit more impact in its design. Fate chose you, just like it chose me. You and I were always going to fight here today, and that guy, and these people, were always going to get caught in the middle. No matter how much you fight it, we both ultimately serve the same power.”

“Again…” Kilo murmurs, rising. The guest’s wound has closed over completely, forming a pale, circular scar in his shoulder. “I’m so sick of hearing you people talk out of your ass at me. All this shit about God and fate and higher beings…” SATURN BARZ takes a bow-legged stance and raises its hands over its head as its master continues “All that I could take, but worse! You all keep tryin’ to tell me that I’m the same as you. I don’t want to be mentioned in the breath as you fucking losers!!!”

SATURN BARZ claps its hand together and steam explodes out from between them. This builds into a thick fog that covers everything in a damp smokescreen.

“Really?” Toto says, unimpressed. He saunters through the smokescreen, his head bobbing up and down as he steps on bodies without a care.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #kilo staples #toto #saturn barz #weezer #ch37

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blancheludis · 5 years

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Tagging: @tokky231, @catonmylapbutineedtopee

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 4/?, Words: 25.469

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate's arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

---

“Sir,” JARVIS speaks up just when Tony has decided that another hour of sleep might do him some good. Better, in any case, than rushing into his problems head on. “Mr. Stane has called several times now while you were otherwise occupied.”

Despite not wanting to talk to anyone else for the moment, Tony’s first instinct is to call back immediately. Then he pauses, though, and thinks first.

It is not that Tony does not trust Obadiah. If he told him about Steve’s claim that someone is selling their weapons to the enemy, he has no doubt that the matter would be dealt with quietly and efficiently. Obadiah has fixed enough of Tony’s mistakes to leave any doubt about that.

This is personal, though. Stark Industries is Tony’s company, if mostly in name only, but this is about his weapons, his designs. Therefore, it is his responsibility to clean this up. A small part of him also wants to know who sold him out and ask them why. Tony is not a good person, not by far. He is callous and careless and quick to replace one disaster with another. He is sure Pepper could add a lot more unpleasant adjectives, he is well aware of his failings.

Also, and that is much harder to admit, he does not want Obadiah to think bad about him for this. Over the years, Tony has caused a number of scandals, leaving everyone scrambling to clean up after him, but this might just take the cake. Beat up by his soulmate and his friends on top of finding out that Tony does not have his own company under control enough to avoid his weapons ending up in the wrong hands.

It always feels like he is constantly balancing on the edge of disapproval with Obadiah. They are family, and not just in terms of Obadiah being Tony’s godfather. Obadiah has always been a part of Tony’s life, has always been his ally, offering encouraging words or sneaking him materials to build things that Howard had disapproved of. Without Obadiah’s presence, Stark Industries might have just fallen to ruins after Howard and Maria’s death. Even now, Tony is not sure he could keep the company afloat on his own. He has always kept out of the business end as much as possible.

Before Obadiah had been Tony’s godfather, though, he was Howard’s friend. At some point, Obadiah might realize that Howard was right about Tony after all. That he is lazy and stupid and the worst kind of Stark. Every mistake Tony makes, every stupid question he asks, every project he does not finish on time because his mind got stuck on other things might be the one that puts an end to Obadiah’s patience with him.

Tony does not have enough people in his life who he trusts, so he cannot risk upsetting Obadiah with this. He will deal with it. It is certainly time he learns how to.

“Write him a message,” Tony tells JARVIS, “say that I had an idea and didn’t get out of the workshop all day.”

On most days, that would be the truth, so Tony does not fear that Obadiah will see through the lie.

“If he calls again, send him through to Pepper.”

Pepper does not know yet what happened, but she is well versed in running interference for him. She will feed Obadiah some story that will give Tony some time to come up with one of his own.

It must have been something business-related anyway for Obadiah does not usually call to inquire about Tony’s well-being. That is not a bad thing either. Tony knows Obadiah will be there for him when it matters, he always has been before. For now, it is better not to make him worry.

Once he has talked this through with Rhodey and Pepper, he will know whether he needs to bother his godfather with this. Until then, he will manage on his own.

When Pepper comes in, ten minutes after seven, she clings to a bottle of wine as if she instinctively knew she would need alcohol for this conversation. Tony studies her closely, almost involuntarily on guard. She knew about the USB drive. She is involved in everything at Stark Industries, has the highest security clearance, and is probably better at signing Tony’s name than he is himself. He has to see her reaction, has to be as sure as he can be – without outright accusing her of anything – that she had nothing to do with selling him out.

Tony does not believe Pepper would betray him, but he has trusted the wrong people before.

Once Pepper sees him, her eyes widen and her mouth opens for a gasp. Only years of training help her keep her composure enough to not let the bottle fall. Tony sees her hand twitch nonetheless.

Air floods into his lungs as he sighs in relief. There is no way of being certain, but Pepper looks like she is feeling every visible bruise of his herself. The worry in her eyes is not faked, and neither is the fury rising in them only moments later. He cannot afford to distrust her beyond that.

“What happened?” she asks with more venom than Rhodey had but with as much conviction to do something about it.

“We have a mole,” Tony says simply.

He has hoped that would draw her attention, to keep both her and Rhodey from focusing on the blaringly obvious wreck that is his face. He needs them to make sense of this for him.

Pepper opens her mouth and Tony is almost ready for the barrage of questions, but then she closes it again. With determined steps, she walks to the couch, sets the bottle down on the glass table heard enough that Tony half expects it to leave a crack, then sits down beside him and takes his face into her hands.

She turns his face to the light, studies the motley pattern of bruises and swelling. Gentler than her expression promises, she lifts the lid of his left eye to get a better look at it underneath the bruise.

Her gaze is burning in its intensity when she lets her hands drop. “What happened?” she then asks again in that tone of voice that regularly has the board of directors cowering before her.

She looks at Rhodey, who is sitting opposite them, arms spread out over the back of the couch, even though that does not hide the tension in his body. It will be easier to get answers from him than from Tony himself – which is part of the reason Tony has not told Rhodey anything substantial yet, insisting to wait until Pepper’s arrival. Going through it once will be hard enough, and he needs to keep this under his control as much as he can.

“Tony got himself kidnapped,” Rhodey says, aiming for a dry tone but is unable to hide the angry tremor in his voice.

Ever since Rhodey arrived half an hour earlier, he has been glaring, looking Tony over for every twinge of pain he is not sharing, and demanding answers. It has been near impossible to keep him from storming off to look for the people who did this to Tony.

“By whom?” Pepper asks, voice icy. It is a tone that is impossible to ignore.

Rhodey shrugs. The motions is distinctly dangerous. “He doesn’t want to tell.”

“Then you must not have asked often enough.”

They are in their own little world right now, intent on solving another problem labelled Tony. When Tony first introduced them, he had been anxious whether they would get along, these two most important people in his life. These days, they team up against him far too often for comfort.

“I was getting there,” Rhodey says, and his impatience is not directed at Pepper. “You know how he is.”

“He is right here.” Tony should have kept his mouth shut, because as soon as the words are out, both his friends’ attention is on him. They are wearing twin-unamused expressions of impatient concern. It is nice to have them looking out for him, but right now, he needs them to concentrate on the bigger picture.

“Why?” Pepper demands. One word is enough to convey she will not let this go, not until Tony has given her a satisfactory answer.

Tony stares at the bottle Pepper brought, at his own glass on the table, still containing about an inch of whiskey. He could reach for any of those, offer his friends a drink, stall for time. If he does not stark talking now, though, he might just never manage to.

“They wanted information about my personal projects. My USB drive?” Again, Tony looks closely at Pepper, gauging her reaction. When she nods, impatiently but without guilt, he continues. “Someone hired them to get it for them.”

Steve and his gang have not yet tried to open the files on it – JARVIS would have gotten a signal and alerted him. Tony is afraid that means they will not look at it at all. Almost a whole day has passed since they got the drive. If only they put it in a computer, Tony would know where they are, JARVIS could integrate himself into their system without them ever being the wiser.

It is also entirely possible, that they are going to hand it over to the buyer without ever touching it themselves at all. From a strategic point of view, that would be the better way, since it would lead Tony straight to the person who sold them out.

He wants that connection to Steve, though. He tells himself that is only because he wants to keep an eye on them, to make sure he will know beforehand if they come after him again. There is no denying the sheer demand in the throbbing of the soul bond, though. Perhaps Tony is just too weak to try.

“And you couldn’t just hand it over,” Rhodey says with the kind of accusation that was borne from years of trying to keep Tony safe from himself, “so they beat you up over it.”

The easiest thing would be to say yes. Tony hesitates too long for it to still be believable, though. Immediately, Pepper narrows her eyes at him.

“They took it first thing. That wasn’t the issue.” Tony grimaces, remembering how he thought the kidnapping was the most civil one he ever had. Thoughts like this just have to be punished. “It’s just that they have a personal grudge against –” He shrugs, swallows against the tightness of his throat. “Well, it’s complicated.”

This was a bad idea. He should have done what he always does and hidden away in the workshop until the bruises are faded and took care of this himself. It would have been much easier to not say anything than to fumble through an explanation, especially since he knows he will not be able to satisfy his friends. They will look right through him, and then all the things he wants to keep secret will come out anyway.

For once, he wanted to do the responsible thing and get help, if only because it will be easier like this to deal with the lost weapons. It was stupid to believe they could keep the personal part of the problem out of it.

“You’re obviously deflecting so we don’t have the whole story, but I don’t see what could be complicated about this,” Pepper says, steel in her voice. She shifts her position so she sits farther away from him to make her glare more effective. “Someone kidnapped you, stole your private data, and beat you up. Have you already informed the police?”

“No,” Tony exclaims hastily, the same kneejerk reaction he gave JARVIS. “And we’re not going to.”

Thoroughly unimpressed glances bear into him from both Rhodey and Pepper. Tony feels like withering under it. The disapproval of one of them is hard to shoulder. Both of them at the same time leave him no room to wiggle free.

“Pray tell,” Pepper drawls, ferocious in her worry, “why are we not doing that?”

Tony takes a deep breath and ignores the pain in his ribs. “Because,” he says slowly, silently begging them to listen, “we have bigger problems.”

They do not listen.

“Bigger than someone beating you up?” Pepper asks, staring at the visible bruises before her eyes wander down, attempting to look through his clothes to see the rest of the damage. “Have you been to the hospital?”

Not once in his life has Tony gone willingly to a hospital. They all know that. “JARVIS checked me,” Tony says, making a show of shrugging as if the motion does not hurt. “I’m all right.”

Not taking her eyes off him, Pepper says, “JARVIS?”

The AI answers before Tony can protest. He has probably waited for his cue. “Sir has several broken ribs, a mild concussion –”

Rhodey sits up abruptly, his tension growing tenfold. “You told me you don’t have a concussion,” he calls, cutting JARVIS off. “You’ve been running around all day. You should rest. No screens, no excitement.”

Tony knows how to deal with a concussion. He also knows how to ignore the symptoms. So what if his head starts hurting easier than usual? So what if his vision swims? That is what painkillers and speech output systems are for.

“I’ve slept,” Tony says with all the petulance of someone tired of getting reprimanded for the way he takes care of himself.

“Sir has indeed had a nap for one hour and twenty-seven minutes,” JARVIS speaks up. His tone is too pleased to hide that he let Tony look bad on purpose. They really have to talk about what that whole Protect Anthony E. Stark thing means again.

“That’s like a whole night’s sleep for me,” Tony adds, although there is no saving this blunder.

“We’re not in the mood for jokes,” Rhodey snaps, glaring but not surprised. “JARVIS, get me everything you know about this. Where Tony was kidnapped, who was in the vicinity when it happened, where he turned up again. We’re going to find these bastards.”

Before JARVIS can make things worse by volunteering all his data on the Avengers, Tony says, “We don’t. You don’t.” There is enough authority in his tone that Rhodey, begrudgingly, turns to him, not insisting on his order. “Look, I’ll handle them,” Tony continues, sounding weary. He has to fight the urge to scratch his itching arm. “I didn’t call you here for that.”

With carefully constructed calm, Rhodey asks, “What could be more important than that?”

He shares a look with Pepper, and Tony knows they will not be getting anywhere if he lets them continue this line of questioning. His bruises will fade. He will not do anything about Steve and his gang for now as long as they leave him alone. He will not advertise the fact that he has found his soulmate.

“We have a mole,” Tony repeats his earlier words as firmly as he can manage.

“What does that even mean?” Pepper asks in a high voice, looking ready to throw her hands in the air to show her frustration at how little sense he is making. “We’re not a spy organization, we’re a normal company. Is someone doing inside dealing?”

Now they are getting somewhere, although Pepper does not sound half as concerned about that as she should be.

“Someone’s selling my weapons under the table,” Tony says into the expectant silence. The words weigh heavy on his tongue. “To the enemy. To terrorists. To anyone willing to buy. They turn up where they shouldn’t be and people die.” He exhales slowly, watching his friends’ faces for the same urgent need to fix this as he feels. “Someone’s doing that and we need to find them.”

The first thing Tony notices is the doubt. It might be the way he looks or the fact that they now know he has a concussion or simply that he has just returned home after having been kidnapped. It is not that they do not believe him, but they obviously think there are more important things to deal with.

It makes Tony irrationally angry with them. He is tired and in pain and constantly battling a stream of emotions from the soul bond that he did not ask for. All he wants is for his friends to believe him so that they can do something against this. He does not need to be kept safe right now, he needs to fight.

“How do you know that?” Pepper asks, looking like she has ten arguments ready why this cannot be true.

She does know more about Stark Industries’ inner workings, that is why Tony needs her help. Her constant scepticism, on the other hand, is mostly a hindrance right now. Of course, Tony wants this to be false information. If they go digging and do not find anything, he will be more than happy with that. The do need to look, though.

“The guys who took me told me,” Tony replies. He knows how that sounds. Telling them that the gang leader is his soulmate will not make them trust his word any more – and push them even farther off topic.

“Of course,” Rhodey snaps. He sounds decidedly done with this. “Because kidnappers are a reliable source of information.”

“The leader said –” Tony tries to argue, but does not get any farther.

“Before or after he beat you into a pulp?”

Tension fills the air like static, crackling, ready to detonate at the tiniest spark. Rhodey is trembling with a mixture of anger and worry and the need to find this gang to teach them to never touch Tony again. Tony has seen all of that on his face before, several times even over their friendship. Pepper, too, looks ready to snap. She is pale but her posture is flawless, her back straight to the point where it looks ready to break.

All of that because of Tony, because of some bruises, because someone always has it out for him. A part of him wishes he could give in to them, could allow them to wrap him up in a blanket and hide him away until the world is safe for him. He could give them Steve’s name and watch from afar while they take care of it. No matter how good the Avengers are, they are no match for Colonel Rhodes and Virginia Potts on a mission.

It would feel good even. Probably. He would not have to worry anymore about what to do with Steve, with this bond he does not want. At the same time, though, it would be cheap, heaping the responsibility for this on his friends. He does not want to drag them into another personal drama of his.

“Listen,” Tony says. It should not be this hard to keep his voice calm. “I don’t like this situation either. You’re right. Anyone could have ordered that hit and the information could be false, but now that I have it, I can’t not act on it.”

Tony feels breathless, more so when he sees that Rhodey and Pepper are still hesitating. With a desperation that he hopes does not show, he reaches for his glass and drains it in one go. Feeling restless, he jumps to his feet and walks over to the liquor cabinet where he remains standing, his back to his friends. That gives him the chance to collect himself, although he feels their stares on him, hears their silent conversation.

“I believe that you believe this,” Pepper says slowly, cautiously as if anything could soften the blow of them questioning him still when they could already be acting, “but you hit your head –”

“Yes,” Tony whirls around, alit with frustration, “I hit my head. Repeatedly. Against two guys’ feet. Because they have been out there fighting against terrorists with my weapons.” He forces himself to make a pause, to calm himself. “I don’t like them, and I don’t trust them, but I believe them when they say that someone’s putting my weapons where they don’t belong, and that someone told them that was my doing.”

At least that gets their attention in a not completely doubtful way.

“When did they have time telling you that?” Rhodey asks, still hung up on Tony’s wounds,

Tony closes his eyes, briefly. He remembers the shift on Steve’s face from disgusted to incredulous to concerned, remembers his own dislike decreasing paradoxically every time they looked at each other afterwards, with every touch they shared that did not hurt.

“The leader made sure I did not actually die, because that’s apparently not something they’re doing,” Tony says, his tone as neutral as he can manage. “We had a little chat. He didn’t want me thinking they weren’t justified in what they did.”

Bitterness coats his tongue, but he swallows it. This is not the time to think about Steve.

“And now you’re all chummy?” Rhodey raises his eyebrows, staring at Tony in the way that makes it clear he knows Tony is hiding something. “He believes you didn’t do it, and you believe they’re not coming after you again?”

Put like that, it really does not make sense. Tony cannot explain it to them, though, cannot open himself up to that misery. “They are passionate enough about this to look for proof before they do anything further.”

“How did you get out?”

Everything in Tony wants to turn around, grab a bottle, and just vanish. Perhaps it was naïve of him to think this would be easier, that they would not ask questions. He keeps his eyes steadily on Rhodey, not even blinking.

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re thinking I’m working with them,” he says, harsher than intended. It does not bring him any satisfaction when Rhodey winces. “This wasn’t my first kidnapping. They beat me up and threw me out. Their job was the USB drive. The punching was just a little extra.”

Where Rhodey looks ready to back down, Pepper is not yet done. “Why won’t you let the police deal with them?” she asks, easily sprinkling more salt into his wounds.

“Because they’re looking into the weapon deals from their end.” That answer will not satisfy her. It would not satisfy him if their roles were reversed, but he is done with this. “Now, could you please stop the interrogation? I asked you here to help. You’re not helping.”

To give them credit, they look ashamed. That does not mean they are giving up or that they are done worrying about him, but perhaps they can finally get to the business at hand.

“We – I’m sorry, Tony,” Pepper says. “We want to help.”

She pats the couch next to her to get him to come back, to sit down. Both of them must see the way Tony is leaning against the cabinet to take some of the weight of his legs. The nap earlier had helped but he still feels the aftershocks of the kidnapping in every movement. Stubbornly, Tony remains where he is.

“Good,” he says with the kind of authority he seldom uses on them. “Then let me handle the kidnappers and concentrate on finding out who’s selling my weapons.”

Pepper nods, although it looks like she is biting her cheek to keep herself from saying something.

Leaning forward, Rhodey studies Tony. “Are you really all right?”

A smile spreads on Tony’s lips, holding no humour, tugging at the bruises. “Of course not,” he replies dryly. “But I will be. I always am.”

Rhodey and Pepper share a look and are not even subtle about it. There is no mistaking their worry, and Tony knows he can trust them. He just needs them to trust him on this too. This is not the time to rest. He can do that afterwards, when this matter is dealt with. And he will get there much faster with their help.

“Of course we’re going to help,” Rhodey says. For a moment, Tony is afraid he has said all of his thoughts out loud. His head is hurting and the concussion might be more noticeable than he told them. “What do you need us to do?”

Tony exhales in relief. This is not over. By showing them that he is hurt, he has doomed himself to constant questions about his well-being, but he could not delay this any longer nor is this a topic that could be talked about on the phone.

“There has to be evidence. A paper trail, communication.” Tony trails off, thinking.

If his weapons are truly spread through the wrong hands, there are a thousand possible perpetrators. It could be someone at Stark Industries, although it would have to be someone high-ranked enough to tamper with the books without it being too obvious. Otherwise, the profits would hardly be worth the risks.

It could also be one of the buyers, which really only leaves someone in the military, and that is a hornet’s nest he does not want to poke unprepared.

The people who could have reasonably ordered the hit on Tony are even more numerous. Business opponents, women he has spurned, fired contractors, former employees. If Tony is good at something, it is at making enemies.

Stark Industries is the sensible place to start. That is where the most damage can be done, both to their future business opportunities and to himself. It is also a matter of pride.

“Pep, I need you to dig into accounting to look for irregularities. I’ve had JARVIS going through anything he can without uploading him to SI’s servers.” Pointing at his face, Tony adds, "I can’t go in to work looking like I do, but I’ll give you something to make it easier to get to the sensitive data. It’s a –” Tony interrupts himself. Pepper does not need to know about the technicalities, the algorithm. She just needs to put the USB drive into a computer at Stark Industries. “It’ll help me get in.”

He waits for her nod, then turns to Rhodey “You’re my ears within the military. We need to know where my weapons wind up. Maybe someone’s just selling them on. I don’t –”

Tony shrugs. A thousand different starting points and possible solutions race through his head, but he does not know which step to take first. He is so tired but there is no rest in sight.

“We’ll take care of it,” Pepper says, as resolute as he had hoped for her to be from the very beginning. Once she sees Tony bearing up to protests, she amends, “We’ll take care of our end.”

Rhodey nods his head in affirmation. “Show us what you’ve got already.”

This time, when Pepper beckons him back to the couch, he goes to her, glad to sink back into the cushions. Nothing is solved yet, nothing makes sense, but with his two friends at his side, he has come so much closer to it already.

For the rest of the night, they strategize, speculate, and if they try to send him off to bed several times or to keep him from looking at a screen to long, Tony can live with that. It is good, even, to let them take some of the control.

They never get around to drinking that bottle of wine after all.

---

Pepper leaves at some point, citing the need to get some sleep if she is to go to Stark Industries in the morning without raising suspicion. She has a reputation to uphold of being constantly perfect, unflappable. Pepper Potts is never too tired or too distracted to do her job and to do it well.

Rhodey stays, though. It will be only for one night and that is too much of an unauthorized leave already, but Tony does not have it in him to send his best friend away tonight. He is in need of comfort, even if he does not outright say it. Rhodey understands him well enough without words, and he does not need to know the exact reason.

They stay on the couch, cuddled up together like they have done a thousand times before. Tony does not say anything when Rhodey pushes the wine bottle out of his reach. The one glass of whiskey he had sits heavily inside his stomach already. Getting drunk might have been his universal response to any problem at one point, but his head feels messed up already without adding alcohol into the mix. If Rhodey thinks that means Tony is slowly learning something like common sense, Tony does not correct him.

Tony pulls a blanket up around them as he settles more comfortably against Rhodey, using Rhodey’s breathing as a template for his own. He is calmer now, having lifted a huge part of the weight off his chest. His arm is itching, but he has taken care all evening to not reach for it to not tip off his friends about it.

He knows that Rhodey has not yet met his soulmate, and he supposes Pepper has not either, although they have never specifically talked about it. If not for the complicated mess surrounding the whole matter, Tony would have told them. He would have never even hesitated. They are family, the people he trusts most in the world.

“Are you all right?” Rhodey asks, disrupting the comfortable silence with more concern.

“Asked and answered, platypus,” Tony replies briskly, closing his eyes as if Rhodey would believe him if he pretended to fall asleep. “It’s time to move on.”

A silent chuckle reverberates through Rhodey’s body. “That was several hours ago,” he argues, “when we had a problem to solve.”

Tony’s answer to that will never change. He is fine, and if he is not he will act like it until the situation has either blown over or he has fixed things. With this, of course, only one of these is an actual option.

“We haven’t solved anything,” Tony says, attempting to change the topic, no matter that he would prefer to not talk anymore at all.

“I know. But we’re getting there,” Rhodey says, sounding like he is rolling his eyes, but Tony is too tired to lift his head and look. “So, how are you really doing?”

Of course, Rhodey would not let himself be distracted this easily. Tony is silent for a long moment, burrowing his face closer into Rhodey’s warmth. He is not going to lie, Rhodey would see through him anyway. The question is just how much of the truth he is going to offer.

“I’m tired and in pain and not as angry as I should be,” he finally says, quiet and disheartened, perhaps too honest.

Rhodey raises his arm and puts it around Tony to hold him closer. Inside his own mind, Tony can admit that he missed this, intimacy without any demands. There is no price to pay for Rhodey’s closeness other than opening himself up enough to accept it.

“You’ll get there,” Rhodey says, not a trace of doubt in his voice. “I’ll give you until tomorrow morning to snap out of feeling betrayed right into doing something about it.”

Part of Tony fears that moment. He can never be sure he will make the right decisions.

“I thought we were already doing something,” he answers somewhat flippant, then softens. “But I hope you’re right. It feels wrong to be so passive about this.”

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been passive,” Rhodey says, clicking his tongue. “Sometimes, your brain is pulling you into too many directions at once, but I’ve never seen you pass by a problem or a wrong without doing something about it.”

It is nice to have someone believing in him, even though Tony obviously does not deserve that kind of trust. If he did, he would not have been so blind, he would not have a soulmate who hates what he is, what he stands for

“So that is how my weapons are ending up in terrorists’ hands. Because I always fix what’s wrong.” Tony’s voice is sharp, but he only cuts himself with it. He has practice doing that.

Rhodey sits up a bit straighter, looking down at Tony even when Tony avoids his eyes. “You didn’t know,” he intones firmly, leaving no room for discussion. “And now that you do, you are immediately acting to make up for it.”

Glancing up, Tony is overwhelmed by the sheer conviction in his best friend’s eyes. “I should have known,” he says nonetheless, not allowing his guilt to be taken from him so easily.

“No sense in dwelling on that” Rhodey insists, unwilling to move even one bit. “We’ll make it right.”

It would be easy to give into the ease with which Rhodey promises something that is not actually in his control to offer. Tony will still wake up tomorrow, and none of his problems will have gotten any smaller. On the contrary, time and distance do not seem to make the heaviness in his arm go away, nor the nonsensical longing. Over the course of this day, it had periodically risen and fallen, even. There is no ignoring the fact that Steve and he are now connected.

“Can we?” Tony asks, concentrating back on the topic at hand. “I mean, so much bad stuff has happened because of this. People are dead or hurt, the fighting never comes to an end.”

For all that it is a big part of Tony’s life, war has always been an abstract thing, captured in statistics and equations, not in actual human lives. Tony is familiar with the recoil of a gun, but not with the force of impact in a body. He knows about the blast radius of bombs but not about the wreckage they leave behind. His best friend is part of the military, but he has never allowed himself to think about Rhodey not coming home.

“They aren’t fighting because they have your weapons,” Rhodey argues with a ferocity that soothes Tony a bit. Not enough to keep him from loading more blame onto his plate, but it is a beginning.

“But they do it so much more effectively with them,” Tony replies, self-loathing dripping from his tongue.

He has had so many ideas not involving weapons. He should have ignored his board of directors, should have ignored Obadiah even, and done something good for the world for once. How hard could it be? They are afraid of losing money, but not all profit has to be paid for in blood.

“Tones –” Rhodey says slowly, gearing up for another argument.

“I know, I know,” Tony cuts him off quickly. He even manages to paste a smile on his face. “Moving on.”

In response, Rhodey holds him tighter for a minute, another promise of safety that could not possibly be upheld. It almost seems like this is it, that Rhodey will let it go now. Then, however, with grating nonchalance, Rhodey asks, “Why are you protecting the kidnappers?”

“What? I don’t – why would I?”

Rhodey knows him too well. Tony could bury him under a never-ending flood of arguments, all of them solid and logical, and Rhodey would still zero in on the fact that Tony is hiding something.

“Then why don’t you tell me their names,” Rhodey continues casually, as if he does not care for the answer either way. “I’m sure JARVIS has found something out already.”

The knowledge of all the information about the Avengers is weighing heavily on Tony. He sends a silent plea to his AI to not mess this up by unwanted autonomy for once. Miraculously, JARVIS remains silent.

“I can’t,” Tony then says as firmly as he can. He almost wants to disentangle from Rhodey but does not, knowing it would seem too defensive. “I – I know one of them.”

It is not even a complete lie. Bruce, as it turns out, is the one and only Dr. Bruce Banner. Tony has read all of his papers, has gushed over them really. It had been a hard hit for the scientific community when Bruce disappeared several years ago, running from a military contract he had apparently taken offense to. Colleagues had declared him another brilliant mind lost to scruples. Considering the company Bruce is keeping now, something more sinister must have happened.

Bruce might not be the reason Tony is so tight-lipped about the kidnapping, but he will serve for now. He is a better alternative than making up some story about Steve without mentioning that they are soulmates.

“You know them?” Rhodey asks, leaning back to look at Tony with open incredulity. His eyes are turning just a shade more furious.

“One of them,” Tony corrects, keeping his tone even as if his heart is not beating wildly. “And he didn’t harm me. On the contrary, he helped me get out. He promised that they won’t come after me again.”

Rhodey does not believe him. Not fully. There are too many holes in Tony’s story. “And you –”

“Please, Rhodey,” Tony interrupts him, shoulders dropping. “I can’t fight all these battles at once.”

They are at an impasse, neither of them willing to back down. In the end, though, Rhodey will always care for Tony’s well-being.

“All right,” he says, although nothing is. “As long as you promise me you won’t fight them alone.”

Tony opens his mouth, mindless agreement lying on his tongue. He thinks better of it, though. Despite all their years of friendship, it is still incredibly hard to reach out for help.

“I called you as soon as I came home, right?” he then says, skirting the topic graciously enough that Rhodey lets it drop.

“Right,” Rhodey says, drawing out the word, then relaxes back into the cushions. “Now, do you want to go sleep in an actual bed, or are you condemning us both to hurting backs tomorrow morning?”

Smiling, Tony wonders for the umpteenth time how he deserves a friend like this. “I’m comfortable where I am.”

Rhodey sighs but does not seem surprised. “I knew you’d say that,” he mutters, but already adjusts his position to make it more comfortable for the both of them on the couch. “Sleep, you maniac. I have to catch an early flight tomorrow.”

When Tony shifts his head a bit, he can hear Rhodey’s heartbeat, a steady, familiar sound. Like that, he knows he will be able to sleep, perhaps even dreamlessly. This is the soundtrack of his MIT years, which were perhaps the happiest of his life. Like this, with Rhodey at his side, Tony knows he is safe.

#fanfiction #marvel #stony #soulmates #mob au #protective rhodey #protective pepper #tony needs a hug #and gets it #leave the gun on the table #my writing #ao3 #wish me luck that my laptop doesn't crash again #i already spent half the day saving it

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zanyanimalstechnologytaco · 4 years

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My Hero Academia, the series, the fan media, the community all was a mistake of our time

I hate this show. More than Naruto and more than Fairy Tail. I hate Izuku, I hate Kstsuki, I hate how everyone and everything is just being forced to like everything about them, I hate All Might, I hate the Hero Association, I hate how light hearted and shallow arcs end. And I hate how things ended up with my once favorite character, his ship and everything I ever expected to be better became much worse and theres no male based fan media to or communities that allow my project myself in shouto anymore, seriously hes manly than "Cant stop Sparkling" guy now adays based on all the fan stuff he has about being with deku.

Todomomo was a mistake and Todoroki is a mistake. All bnha ships are unholy and wrong. Bnha is all shallowness and impure GARBAGE. I used to love bnha and was a big todoroki fan. But the more I invested through time in this character, the more i felt alone and isolated from the fandoms intention on shouto being bland fangirl fuel, the more I felt more distant from the character and not even the manga supports my reasons to invest in todoroki whom hori treats like the most shoehorned false hype emo in the show. And that offends me deeply, you got all these characters and the ones that you are expected to take seriously (and live through vicariously) are the most important characters in the show. Deku, Bakugou, All Might, Mineta, Kirishima and even Endeavor are these character and he obviously builds up there hidden character development in abilities and progression, shouto still struggles with his own personal development and is basically the same as he started with the added bonus of jobbing.

Oh and all the hype about him being cool and attractive, just irrelevant blanket statement extra tidbit filler, nothing meaningful but to make shouto explained why hes special, I prefer it if the story elaborates this by "showing" it, which the author just skims through with him and hand waves consistancy with contradiction in other following scenes making him seem like a weaker/dumber from before(ex. Fighting Festival(shouto a top tier student in every respect according to deku) to Stain Fight(Shouto is nothing but quirk reliant) according to Stain). Strongest quirk wise, this is all he has for him but even hes not even the most talented or intelligently trained with it, which makes me wonder of all shouto is just a blanket statement based character that just meant to exist to explore how insignificant he is with all his power and advantages compared to the main duo and other coming of age based events involving the cast. Even his father represents this more than his son.

Todomomo seems to relate to this, but its meaningless, just like everything else shouto has been portrayed by fans, based on how much the author puts his narrative into play which is also meaningless in the grander context of the story. Why make momo and shouto work together in the first place only to not build that relationship in future developments.

That pairing I hate(todomomo), I didnt hate in the beginning only to me because it was the only humanizing aspect todoroki had not related to his family and later the forced shoehorned dynamic with deku and bakugou, it made sense because the two are socially awkward people despite their supreme standing in the class and as first years and yet they both encourage each other by standing firm to overcome their own lack of socialization skills to grow as ideal people and improve socially, which seems to be working for momo now not shouto who's still the brooding loner elitist type(only has friends with elitist characters like friends too) . Now it's a husk and a relic of a potential investment in shoutos own story, I dont give a damn anymore, shoutos has no real anticipating developments to compel him to me, his quirk is boring as fuck since it's just a shooting targeting spammer, he isnt a good character to entertain me from a personal way, he really is a broken record of the same issues with a new idea, his family outside of endeavor and overcooked guy is more boring than him, and god I hate him with deku and bakugou which gives me more a reason to not bother with anything about him specifically since they will always overshadow him as story narrative and progress development narrative types, and I hate those two more. They are really just stand ins as horikoshi escapist fantasies, and both of them get more attention than any character as narratives who pretty much get the most attention in doing the most awesome feats and accomplishments as main roles. The new movie was about that. Shoutos accomplishments center around how he plays second fiddle to that basically instead of exploring the potential of being a pure equal to deku and bakugou, he gets the second in command villains or does something less than them in battles they already excell at in quirk control.

It's all worthless, shouto should not be this popular anything, and eventually this reflects in the popularity polls recently, which I noticed in the west from the previous one, shouto was less recieved by a significant margin compared to the main leads as a third place holder, maybe it shows me that todoroki is losing favor slowly, it makes sense, the author is not doing anything with him that makes people catch interest with the plot about strong heroes and villains getting more relevant as major players, while hes stronger than most the class but not plot relevant with his strength like deku has. Bakugou is like just like deku since the plot focuses on his strength to and is naturally stronger than Shouto via being the more badass and more aggressively driven he gets and thus gets as strong if not stronger and more skilled than shouto out of sheer plot armor. Shouto is just getting hotter and cold, bigger and more raw and unrefined in his power, so he has to control it which is still not as grand as bakugous perfect skills and genius and deku grander scaling in brains and brawn. If I were to make a guess, shouto is just going to to be behind them both as a stronger quirk user eventually and more about being a defensively capable than battle capable like kirishima and ochako, fitting for a major yet minor character, which disappoints me even more since shouto can be more battle creative than both of them if the author didnt have a bias in making deku and bakugou better than him despite having a stronger quirk.

God I hate this series. Theres no likable characters that are relatable or even human, there all shallow power and fanservice fantasies, the only character in class 1s that acts less cartoonish and serves as a stand in audience Surrogate is jirou and tail guy, but they are all about being generic looking compared to the unrealistically attractive guys and girls, the looney toon designed comic relief, and the recycled shonen trope cast. But if anything shouto represents all these shallow functions the most, and it's made him a less than a character too, it made him a sellout fan appeal type with no credibility as a character, which is why men dont like him due to not showing much concern to connect to him as a human narrative, at least the characters compared to him are showing why they(despite acting like shallow cliches) are interesting characters to care about, shoutos thing is telling about how tragically sympathetic his character needs to be as the only important thing about him, not as a part of him as a character to endear towards while he grows and helps build up a leading narrative with his development. His story doesnt help any part of the main lead or rivals growth, or his class, or his own personal objectives for his goals as a hero(being like all might and surpassing all might is a all purpose blanket statement to keep him near deku and bakugou as a power hype, not a individual self defined person). Dragging out objectives(season 1: being anti endeavor on surpassing all might which in the end pledges to learn not to do that and become better, season 2.Learning from the festival and from then on to being able to take endeavors legacy and take his training seriously which compared to deku and bakugou isnt enough to show much, Season 3. Promises to make people depend on him, doesnt happen since hes still the unapproachable person people in his class know him for. Season 4. Still makes promises hes gonna be a dependable hero, still accept his fire side, still be his own hero, things he repeats and fails to attempt because hori is lazy or just doesnt care about showing how much hes changed compared to his mary sue duo. etc) that dont happen and are inconsistent with new story details is why shouto is dead to me. High expectations about him are problematic since the author has agendas that don't involve story relevancy about him compared to the actual leading roles, plus the fan reception helps effect how I feel about shouto to, hes not even popular enough to have drawn pornagraphy with most all the girls and high quality momo hentai fanservice artists and circles, fucking mineta and your average joe otaku faceless male is more likely than shouto instead. That's how much the value shouto means to anyone than just a fangirl targeted audience which is just gay or bishi equivalent to sasuke fanworks and the feminine answer to male targeted audiences of characters like deku, bakugou and mineta, the worst and most common types of shonen stock characters in the series.

I hope this series and all the fans get tired of this shit when it gets eventually cancled. Or maybe it has. I dont really keep up with it anymore.

#shouto todoroki #rant #thisseriessucks #yamamotodoujinisthereason #my hero academia #peoplestopsupportingthisseries #boku no hero academia

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hello-thefatlosshabit-blr · 5 years

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One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered. We want to be optimistic, but we don’t want to be a naive optimist. The naive optimist ignores the obstacles in their way and believes that they will not confront any challenges while striving to accomplish their goal. The realistic optimist believes in their ability to accomplish their goal despite the obstacles in their way. They acknowledge and prepare for the obstacles which makes them much more likely to achieve their goal. We want to have faith in our ability to overcome obstacles, not naively believe we won’t encounter them.

Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it.[i]When you are working on developing a daily discipline, ask yourself: “When am I most likely to be tempted to give in? What situation is most likely to get me sidetracked? What excuses will I give myself to procrastinate?” Once you have such a scenario mapped out in your mind, imagine yourself in that situation, what it will feel like, and what you might be thinking? If we are struggling to form a habit, it shouldn’t be difficult to imagine what situations will cause us to slip off our path, because these situations must have occurred for us to be struggling with forming the habit now.If you enjoyed this article, please LIKE and SHARE.

Why is imagining the situations that will cause us to fail such a useful tool for overcoming our willpower challenges? It’s because once we have identified them, we can anticipate them and develop a plan to either avoid the situation or mitigate the temptation. When you have a definite strategy in mind, imagine yourself doing it. Envision what it will feel like to succeed. The more you mentally rehearse your plan, the more likely you are to execute it successfully when the temptation confronts you.

While planning missions in the military, two things were drilled into us. The first was to keep our plans as simple as possible by avoiding unnecessary complexity. We were taught the acronym KISS, “Keep it simple, stupid.” Simple plans are easier to execute. Complexity is the enemy of execution. The second was to rehearse, rehearse, and rehearse. The simpler your plan is, and the more you rehearse it, the better you will execute your plan. Execution is critical. Plans do not produce results unless you execute them.

Gabriele Oettingen a clinical psychologist and author of Rethinking Positive Thinking: Inside the New Science of Motivation, found that regardless of the goal, weight loss, obtaining a high-paying job after college, finding your soul mate, or recovering from hip replacement surgery, being a realistic optimist dramatically increases your odds of success. Realistic optimist recognizes the pitfalls that lay in front of them and develop a plan to address them. They don’t overestimate their ability to overcome challenges through willpower alone. They shape their environment and create if-then plans to shape their behavior. Realistic optimists have meals ready to eat in their freezer, they submit more job applications, they exercise more courage to meet potential romantic partners, and they create daily routines around rehabilitation exercises.[ii]

We must believe in ourselves, but one of the worst things we can do is underestimate the challenges we must overcome or overestimate our finite and fickle abilities to overcome them. Presuming that our willpower will always be adequate to the challenge of overcoming every temptation is folly. We need to recognize the challenges before we encounter them and develop a plan, based on proven strategies, to overcome those challenges. We should seek the advice of people that have done it.

Everyone struggles with procrastination, laziness, and overcoming distractions to make progress toward their goals. The bigger the goal, the more likely we are to be intimidated by it. The more likely we’ll be to procrastinate. When a reporter asked Earnest Hemmingway how he set about writing a novel, he replied, “First you defrost the refrigerator.” While I am no Hemmingway, the task of writing a book can seem overwhelming. To prevent the enormity of the task overwhelming me, I focus on writing the next paragraph or outlining the next chapter. A beautiful book about the joys, struggles, and rewards of writing is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. She describes writing as a gritty endeavor that requires courage to overcome procrastination born out of perfectionism to produce that “shitty first draft.” She says, “Perfectionism is a mean, frozen form of idealism, while messes are the artist’s true friend.”

Her book’s title reminds me to focus on taking that next small step to produce that shitty first draft. I remember the story of Anne Lamott’s brother for which the book is titled. She recounts the story in her book: “Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, “Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” Her father’s simple advice is something we can all use as a tool to stop procrastinating and take one small step, and then another.

It is a common mistake to think that our weaknesses are unique to us. They aren’t. Many of us wrongly believe that our weakness of willpower reveals a profound flaw in our character. It doesn’t. Frailties and imperfections are common. It is part of what it means to be human. They are so common that we marvel at and celebrate those that can overcome them. Weakness is a part of the human condition. We need to understand our limitations and develop effective strategies for coping with them. We all struggle with willpower, but most of us never seek a better understanding of it. The better we understand our human frailties, the better we can manage them to overcome our willpower challenges.

The only way to beat procrastination is to overcome the mental obstacles to starting. Marla Cilley, the creator of the 5-Minute Room Rescue, found an ingenious way to help us overcome procrastination. She suggests you commit to five minutes of work. For example, tell yourself, “All I am asking for is a five-minute commitment, after that we can stop.” Of course, after starting it is much easier to keep going. This same tactic can be applied to performing a workout when you just are not feeling it. Tell yourself, “let’s get changed, grab a cup of coffee, and warm-up for five minutes, and if we still are not feeling it, we can quit.” Once you get started, it is unlikely you won’t be able to finish the workout.

We have one brain but two minds. One mind is motivated by base instincts and strong emotions, the other is logic driven and focused on our long-term goals. Emotions are powerful. Overcoming them through sheer force of will is very taxing and can deplete our willpower reserves quickly, leaving us more vulnerable to the next temptation. Shrinking the commitment, by asking for only 5-minutes of work is a very effective strategy for overcoming our feelings. The more consistently we can overcome our emotions to do what is in line with our long-term goals the more successful we will be.

Consistency is the key to making progress. John Maxwell’s Power of Five provides a great example of the power of small persistent actions. He asks what would happen if you had a large tree on your property and you committed to taking five swings at it each day? The answer is always the same; the tree will eventually fall. It doesn’t matter how large the tree is. He has written over 70 successful books using the Power of Five. We are often intimidated by the large trees in our life, but if we just committed toward doing a little each day, instead of being overwhelmed by them we would achieve incredible results.

When it comes to writing, I subscribe to Steven King’s philosophy, “Don’t wait for the muse. As I’ve said, he’s a hardheaded guy who’s not susceptible to much creative fluttering. This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks. Your job is to make sure the muse knows where you’re going to be every day from nine ’til noon or seven ’til three. If he does know, I assure you that sooner or later he’ll start showing up.” I keep showing up. The worst thing we could do is judge ourselves too harshly and believe our weakness of willpower reveals a unique flaw in our character instead of what it is, ordinary human frailty.

The three most important things to understand about willpower is: (1) we need to get adequate sleep each night to begin the day with the maximum amount of willpower (2) our willpower depletes as our day progresses, and (3) the more self-control we are forced to exercise, the faster the rate of depletion. Stress and fatigue are the enemies of willpower. If you wake-up each morning tired, you’re already starting the day at a willpower disadvantage. Most people need at least 7.5 to 8.5 hours of sleep each day. Since our willpower is greatest at the beginning of each day, that would be the best time to schedule the tasks that require the most willpower. You’ll also find you have a lot fewer interruptions in the morning. The last strategy and perhaps the most important is to avoid taxing our willpower unnecessarily. We want to shape our environment to promote positive habits and discourage negative ones.

I have made writing a daily a habit, so it doesn’t require much willpower anymore. It is just a part of my day. Most times I can block out distractions and my ideas flow. Sometimes I cannot, but I keep showing up, determined and excited to make whatever little bit of progress I can make each day with the time that I can set aside. I write in the early morning hours because the rest of my day is filled with personal and professional commitments. I know that if I keep plugging away, I will eventually complete this book and the other books I have already outlined. The key to finishing is to develop the habit of starting again each day. I don’t rely on willpower to write each day; I rely on my morning schedule. I don’t struggle with the decision. I look at the clock, and when it says 4:30 AM, my mind says it is time to write. Routines reap results because they don’t rely on willpower, that fickle friend that is never there for you when you need him. Disciplined habits are our best friends. “A small daily task, if it be really daily, will beat the labors of a spasmodic Hercules.” Anthony Trollope

The more we rely on willpower as our strategy for success, the less likely we are to achieve our goals. The problem with willpower is that it depletes as the day progresses and leaves us naked to temptation. It is more useful to shape our environment to reduce temptations and distractions than to rely on willpower and grit. When we overestimate our willpower, we unnecessarily expose ourselves to people, situations, and environments that will tempt us to break our resolutions. “Research shows that people who think they have the most willpower are actually the most likely to lose control when tempted. For example, smokers who are the most optimistic about their ability to resist temptation are the most likely to relapse four months later, and overoptimistic dieters are the least likely to lose weight. Why? They fail to predict when, where, and why they will give in. They expose themselves to more temptation,” Kelly McGonigal.

Ronald Amundsen

The 1909 race to the South Pole illustrates the necessity to identify the challenges ahead of you, learn from the success of those who have gone before you, and not to rely too heavily on grit and determination to push through whatever obstacles you encounter. Two teams took-up the challenge of being the first to reach the South Pole. One group was led by British Naval Officer Robert Scott and the other lead by Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen.

Amundsen gave his people the best possible equipment, and paced their journey to ensured he gave his men plenty of time to rest along the route. Scott’s team was ill-equipped. Inadequate clothes lead to frostbite, and poor goggles lead to snow blindness. Amundsen used dogs to haul their provisions, while Scott used untried motorized sleds which quickly failed, forcing his men to carry their provisions on sleds.

At the South Pole: Wilson (left), Scott, Oates (standing); Bowers and Evans (sitting)

Scott pushed on and ultimately made it to the South Pole, albeit one month behind Amundsen’s team. Tragically, no one on Scott’s team would survive the journey back, while Amundsen’s team returned with no severe maladies. There are many reasons for the radically different outcomes, but ultimately it was Scott’s overconfidence in the grit and resilience of his team that caused him to underestimate the difficulty of their journey. His dying words illustrate this point. “Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale.”[iii]

I don’t want to diminish their courageous act of perseverance, but merely wish to point out that it could have been avoided. Scott could have given his team a better chance of success if he had better identify the challenges and better understood the limits of human endurance. This program offers tools to make your journey more manageable, but certainly not effortless. You will have to demonstrate some grit and willpower, but much less than if you didn’t use the proper strategies. The mistake I want us to avoid making is relying too heavily on willpower.

A plan that relies too heavily on willpower is doomed to failure. We are foolish to subject ourselves to temptation needlessly. Willpower is a fickle thing that often leaves us during our time of greatest need. As Shakespeare put it, “we are devils to ourselves, when we will tempt the frailty of our powers.”[iv] We shouldn’t tempt fate by relying on willpower when an effective strategy could reduce or eliminate the need for willpower. The proven strategies contained in this program will give you the greatest odds of success. Why make your journey any more difficult than it needs to be? The best use of our willpower is the implementation of strategies to reduce our need to exercise it.

The distance between our goals and where we are is the journey before us. When we choose to spend time with people that exhibit negative attitudes and behaviors, we are deciding to put rocks in our backpack. If we are trying to eat healthier but choose to stock our pantry with junk food, we are choosing to make our journey harder. We are consciously choosing to put pebbles in our shoes. Many people say they don’t want to deprive their kids, of what exactly I don’t know, a lifetime of sugar addiction? I believe desserts should be an occasional treat, not a daily indulgence.

These rocks and pebbles won’t produce an immediate failure, but they will make failure inevitable. The extra weight will slow your progress, and the pebbles will grind away at your resolve with each step you take; until you eventually give up. When your willpower finally gives out, you’ll blame it for your lack of success, instead of your decision to expose yourself to the temptations unnecessarily. You are going to need grit and willpower, just like Amundsen’s team surely did to successfully navigate the South Pole, but they combined it with the right tools and strategies.

Save your limited willpower for the temptations you cannot avoid, instead of putting more in your path. You are going to be tempted at the office to eat the donuts, cookies, and birthday cakes on a regular basis. Our supply of willpower can vary significantly from day to day depending on how stressful our day has been. This is especially true as the day wears on, and our ability to exert willpower is depleted to almost nothing. If we get adequate sleep each night, we begin the day with a willpower reservoir that is fully restored like your cellphone battery. The more we use it throughout the day, the quicker it depletes. Ever notice that most of our bad habits occur late at night?

That is because our willpower has evaporated and all we are left with is our desire to seek instant gratification and relief from our stressful day. Shaping your environment by eliminating the temptations you will encounter in the evening is the most effective strategy you can adopt. The next most effective technique is establishing an evening ritual that supports your goals. Habits conserve our willpower because they don’t require our conscious mind to decide what to do. The decision is made automatic through repetition. Our primitive mind encounters the cue and executes the routine automatically.

Change agents often find that what appears to be a people problem is a situation problem. Instead of taking on the difficult task of changing our behavior through willpower, we can often tweak our environment and make change happen painlessly. Instead of relying on workers following proper procedures, safety engineers install guards and controls to prevent workers from taking shortcuts that put themselves at risk. They do this because they know that it is easier to tweak the environment; rather than to force 100% compliance with proper procedure as workers become overconfident and complacent.

I hope you’ll decide to become an optimistic realist. I hope I have convinced you that we cannot ignore the challenges in front of us or imagine a future in which they won’t exist. We must develop a plan that relies less on willpower and more on structuring our environment to make good habits easier and bad habits more difficult. Our environment profoundly influences our behavior, so it is only logical that we would want to shape it to promote good habits and discourage bad ones.

A realistic optimist anticipates the challenges that are outside their control so they can develop and rehearse a simple plan to address them. If you are struggling to exercise five days a week consistently, I want you to first ask yourself “why am I NOT going to train five days this week?” Then I want you to develop a plan that will allow you to overcome the excuses. Optimism is an excellent source of motivation, but naïve optimism is a recipe for failure that ends in bitter disappointment. I want you to believe in yourself, but I want that believe to be based on the world as it is, and not based on the world as you would wish it to be. I want you to be a realistic optimist.

Best wishes and best health!

[i] Kelly McGonigal, The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It, Avery; Reprint edition (December 31, 2013)

[ii] Heidi Grant, Be an Optimist Without Being a Fool, Harvard Business Review, MAY 02, 2011

[iii] John C. Maxwell, The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, HarperCollins Leadership; Revised & Updated edition (September 16, 2007)

[iv] William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida Translation, Act 4, Scene 4

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The Fat Loss Habit: Creating Routines that Make Willpower and Fat Loss Automatic takes a new approach to getting leaner, fitter, and stronger. The program uses high-impact change strategies that make the process of adopting a healthy lifestyle easier. The nutrition and workout program, like the change techniques, have all been proven effective, and are all backed by research and scientific studies.

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Don't make the mistake of being a naive optimist. Research shows that predicting how and when you might be tempted to break a resolution increases the chances that you will keep it. Learn more. If you enjoy this article, please LIKE, SHARE, and follow us on Facebook. One of the most potent strategies for reaching a goal is to identify the obstacles ahead of time and to develop a plan to address each before they are encountered…

#decision fatigue #discipline #ego depletion #REALISTIC OPTIMISIST #REALISTIC OPTIMISM #Willpower #willpower depletion #Willpower Doesn&039;t Work

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nom-the-skel · 6 years

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[vore] The Bunny Trap, chapter 4

This fic already owed a lot to @dandelions-sea for brainstorming ideas, but now it is officially a collab! Thank you for writing with me ^w^

1.8k words

[chapter 1][chapter 3][read on AO3][chapter 5]

It had been almost a month since Razz had freed the rabbit from the trap; he had long since come to the realization that life before Edge was quite unimaginable. Their rabbit roommate quickly became a part of their household, finding his place even with Slim’s dislike of him. As of late even that had started to die down, partly due to the gratuitous amount of rabbit-themed puns he was now able to generate. It also didn’t hurt for him to find out about Edge’s brother… Slim was many things (lazy, irresponsible, a general slob…) but unempathetic just wasn’t one of them. Perhaps he was triggered into thinking of what it would be like to lose his own brother. Razz himself had many moments at which he would zone out thinking of the bunny’s plight; on the worst days he found himself wondering about Red - about how his final hours must have been.

Since adopting the bunny Razz took up a strict vegetarian diet - the only one to know of this was Slim, the one wolf Razz could trust with absolutely certainty on the issue. Even if he could trust Alphys to stay quiet, he couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t mock him for this choice. Or worse; think that it somehow made him less fit for the guard. He disguised this new eating habit as ‘penny pinching’, telling anyone who asked that he was eating at home rather than going out, and spending his hunting break working on paperwork to get overtime.

“Lieutenant, I don’t like seeing you here along at lunch again!” Alphys said one day, carrying with her an extra lunch. Razz looked at the bag, brow quirked.

“Forgive me, Captain - I was hoping to catch up on follow-up reports while we don’t have any new cases,” he said, quickly clicking out of the game of solitaire he had open on his computer. Underneath was the final report they received which he had filed almost a week ago.

Alphys humphed. “I admire your work ethic, Lieutenant, however I am legally required to give you a break at noon.” Reaching into the bag, Alphys retrieved a neatly cut square of bread stuffed with cheese and some sort of deli meat. She shoved the sandwich on Razz’s desk, hardly looking him in the eye. “Undyne made too many by mistake today - you should eat it so it doesn’t go to waste!!” she said, completely unable to admit her worry for her closest friend. Razz kept his smile down as he saluted her on her way out.

It took Razz almost a full minute of debating on whether to eat the gift or not. The deli meat couldn’t have come from a monster, so was it really so bad? Alphys might return next time with prey if he didn’t eat the sandwich now.

Razz got through one bite before yanking the meat out, dashing outside and throwing it out into the woods. He hates being wasteful, but he absolutely could not stand to consume it; what a shameful wolf he’d become…

—-

Razz spent the rest of the day in a dour mood, so it was no improvement to hear the chipper hums of Blueberry rolling through the woods. The sounds radiated from down the hill, slowly approaching. Razz grumbled to himself. Wonderful; there wasn’t much Razz could do to avoid confrontation now. There were few trees here and the path stretched for another acre or so. Even if he dashed out of sight, not only would his scent give away his avoidance, but he would eventually be seen with how little cover there was.

Razz hadn’t seen Blue in almost as much time as he’d had Edge in the house. The other had called a few times, wondering when their next training session was; Razz really didn’t want to hold what had happened against the other wolf - after all, it was only natural for wolves to eat bunnies. If Blue had found a method that worked better for him then it really wasn’t Razz’s place to stop or correct him, no matter his personal feelings. Regardless, it had been difficult for Razz to maintain a friendship with both his trainee and his house guest, so it came as quite the relief when the voicemails and texts started tapering out. In the back of his mind, Razz hoped that it wasn’t because Blue felt unappreciated or offended.

Bracing himself for the awkward reunion, he waited for Blue to come into sight. Razz made himself busy on his phone, feigning ignorant boredom. The cheerful hums broke off before Blue came into view, and for a moment Razz wondered if he’d caught Razz’s scent, until he heard Blue’s voice bounce off the hills.

“No, no - it’s probably a lot bigger then you’re thinking… … … well, of course not! I would have to go all the way across town for that!”

Blue’s laugh still sent short waves of warmth through Razz; the kid really did have a lot of potential in the Guard. The conversation was one-sided as far as Razz could tell; perhaps Blue was on the phone with someone? He could hardly tell what it was they were talking about, but the passion that Blue spoke with still gave Razz a sense of interest, as it almost always did. Stars, he hadn’t realized how much he missed his friend…

Finally, Razz could see Blue’s ears poking out over the curve of the mountain. His head was turned down, ears perked with interest as he spoke to someone that Razz couldn’t yet see. He never turned his eyes away from the phone, fiddling with some app so that he could time his reunion perfectly. What would he say after all this time? The awkward nervousness came rolling back as he waited to see who Blue could possibly be talking to.

Razz determined the timing to be right; he lowered his phone and waved, turning to face his old trainee. “Good afternoon, Blue,” he said, masking his nervousness with a stony expression. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Blue’s ears immediately flattened, eyes going comically wide as he froze. For all of his strengths, the one thing that Razz couldn’t teach that kid was how to hold a poker face. He would’ve been irritated, if he weren’t so crushed by that reaction. Was Blue really that upset to see him? He would’ve had a good reason - Razz shouldn’t have ignored him for as long as he had.

But after a moment it became clear that Razz wasn’t entirely the source of Blue’s anxiety; Razz’s eyes drifted lower to Blue’s hands. Unobscured by the curvature of the hill, Razz could see now that Blue was carrying something. It was like a box with a handle… a crate like the ones in human movies where they keep their small animals. The Guard in Razz wanted to demand to know exactly what was in Blue’s hand and what he was doing with it - obviously Blue was up to something he didn’t want to be caught doing - however, the part of him that was Blue’s friend couldn’t ignore the fear in the other wolf’s eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Razz pocketed his phone. “I see you have something there,” he said calmly, keeping his professionalism at a cool moderate. “Would you mind enlightening me on exactly what you are transporting there, Blue?”

Blue shook his head, taking a step back. “N-no, Lieutenant,” he said, practically throwing the crate behind his back. Razz bit back a groan - Lieutenant… no one called him that unless they were on duty or up to something.

“I sure hope you know that transit in Snowdin is marked as capital-licensed goods only - it would be section three in your training manual,” Razz said, his tone slowly seeping into something more stern. Surely Blue hadn’t taken up a side job of smuggling contraband.

Blue shook his head again. “No, no - it’s nothing like that,” he denied quickly, sweat beading at his brow. “It’s just… personal items…”

“I see,” Razz said, unconvinced. He moved forward, encroaching closer on his friend. “Then you won’t mind if I just take a look and see what it is you have.”

Blue’s ears remained flat, his face screwed up as he fought to come up with some excuse to keep Razz out of the crate, but Razz was fast. He marched himself right next to Blue and snatched the crate, holding it up to eye level to look inside.

Razz was immediately hit with the scent of bunny before he could even process what he was seeing. Sure enough, inside there was a small rabbit curled in the far corner, eyes blown wide as he stared at the wolf gazing in at him. In the dark it was hard to see what it looked like, though he thankfully didn’t smell blood or death. That didn’t stop him from feeling sick at the sight; what was his friend going to do to this poor monster?

“Please, please don’t be mad,” Blue said, shrinking in on himself. Razz’s gaze falls back to a blushing, guilty Blue. Razz took a deep breath before handing the crate back to him.

“I’m not mad,” Razz said, forcing himself to keep Blue’s gaze. It was hard, knowing exactly what the other had in store for the rabbit. The poor thing even looked just like the one that Blue killed in front of Razz. “Just… promise me you’ll swallow this one. None of that… biting stuff.” It probably wouldn’t be much better, but it would at least be painless and relatively quick.

Blue’s eyes welled with tears and he shook his head. Razz bit his lip to keep from sighing. How can someone be simultaneously so intimidatingly cruel and yet so weak? Gently Blue placed the crate on the ground and folded his arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry… I know I’m a failure as a wolf and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to train me anymore,” he whined, his head tucked into his chest. “I’ll resign if you want - you shouldn’t be forced to be around me.”

This time Razz did sigh - this self-deprecation shit was not something he would allow from anyone. “Blue. You’re not-”

“I can’t even kill a bunny!!” he sobbed suddenly, practically falling into Razz’s arms. Stunned still, Razz could only stiffen and catch Blue as he latched onto his middle. Between Blue’s trembling cries and the sheer absurdity of the moment, Razz hardly had time to process the words that Blue spoke.

When they did get through, Razz spoke.

“Wait… what do you mean you didn’t kill the bunny…?”

#collab!!#wolfbunny fic: bunny trap

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