#[ And then potentially one of us in the middle somewhere ]

[wolfpackmuses]

I won't lie, anytime I see any of the other Satans here on the dash, I can't help but think about the entire "Brother" meme that Space Marines do with each other. Because I feel like that is something my Satan would absolutely do.

Also, hear me out to those of you who portray Satan as well: I feel like we all take vastly different personalities to Satan and I feel we fall on a giant line chart of extremes in terms of the personality we give our Satans.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

I hate the viper as the black divine btw I hate it I hate it I hate it

And no, it's not because it's a bad idea.

It's because it's an EXCELLENT idea, and the idea that they intended it to be canon (or planned for it to be) is quite frankly an insult to such a complex idea. Especially in the game series that used to explore religion quite seriously and which has decided, in the game about Gods and potentially disproving faith, it no longer actually cares about faith (the MAIN THEME OF THE PREVIOUS GAME).

Like. Firstly narratively the Black Divine being Viper could have had such an impact because you could have built to it. You meet Viper, get to know him... simultaneously you're meeting various imperial chantry officials. Maybe these chantry officials are even aligned with Venatori. They keep alluding to the Black Divine but you never meet him until ACT 3 when it turns out...the black divine was the viper all along.

And one assumes the black divine would turn to a life like the Vipers because they don't think their office is doing any real good. That's!!! Really interesting!!! Someone decked in glory and power realises their own office is a sham that is doing no good not stopping slavery or Venatori and so works to do it from the shadows...that's interesting!!! And has something to say about systematic power structures and how changing a system from the inside can be damn near impossible.

Or maybe he does this because he DOESNT want to risk his seat as the black divine but feels immense guilt about how he's not actually helping the faithful poor in his city. He wants to cling to his power because he believes he can nudge history in the right direction if he does, but simultaneously knows that by not speaking out publiclly on slavery or poverty he's potentially dooming people to death and so needs to sooth his guilt by going vigilanty. Maybe there's an interesting question in there somewhere about living in two worlds and trying to maintain the status quo in one and destroy it in the other.

Also it DIRECTLY parrellels previous characters like Cassandra and Leliana and is a continuation of inquisitions themes surrounding what good can faith ACTUALLY accomplish for people (this even goes back to da2 and Anders)? When does faith break/why? What

Also because it's not explained, it's just kinda stupid. Does Bioware think that high ranking religious officials do nothing all day? They're not billionaires sat in a mansion popping into occasional meetings, they're public figures and political leaders of giant organisations who regularly have to be on show to the masses and to their own advisors. I won't believe that they not only a) have time to be batman AND b) they also have time to just...sit around in some room in the middle of nowhere to be a performative faction leader to the protagonist of a video game they don't know they're in.

Also. Are you telling me. The venatori were going to execute the FANTASY POPE??? And nobody cared??? They were going to publiclly execute the FANTASY POPE and the viper wasn't going to reveal himself and he wasn't going to be recognised and that wasn't going to cause problems? Are you kidding me?

Tblr; the idea that the viper is the black divine is such a good idea it makes me so angry they seemingly couldn't be bothered to actually put the time into it to make it interesting

[pollyanna-nana]

One of the most tragic and compelling aspects of Dunmeshi, to me, is that we’ll probably never know (unless Kui tells us lol) how Delgal actually felt about Thistle. I’ve seen people say that he genuinely cared for him as a brother and his journey to the surface was to save him from his madness as much as it was his people. I’ve seen people say that he saw Thistle as nothing more than a fancy accessory or tool that ended up going astray. Others I’ve seen (and personally agree with) say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle. But honestly, I think any one of these interpretations has the potential to be correct… and that’s just heartbreaking.

After all, Delgal is dead. Like, dead-dead. The very first chapter of the manga starts with his spirit leaving this mortal coil, taking that answer with him. And…

How he talks about Thistle here… it’s interesting. He does not ask for him to be talked down, or captured or imprisoned, but instead “defeated”. Which Mithrun interprets as asking for his death… which is reasonable, because that’s likely how the vast majority of adventurers interpreted his words, too. Obviously as he was crumbling to dust he probably didn’t have the capacity to be particularly verbose or explain the complex backstory to how the kingdom ended up this way, but the effect is the same no matter how he may have felt with it. He asked for Thistle to be killed.

But… even in situations where he wasn’t under any such time limit to explain what was going on, he still seemed not to. Most glaringly:

Yaad seemingly has no idea that it was Delgal’s fault that Thistle sought the demon’s power. Obviously he couldn’t talk to him about it because Thistle was, uh, a little out there by that point, but why didn’t Delgal explain? Was he embarrassed? Mournful? Couldn’t find the words?

Delgal was scared of dying. He wanted prosperity at any cost, and how could Thistle possibly refuse? Did he even realize that what he was the one who pushed his own brother— One who basically helped raise him despite being a child himself, and in many ways is still a child— down this path? Or was it like watching an overzealous employee misinterpret directions?

The way Yaad describes things here makes it sound like Thistle simply dug too deep in his studies and fell into madness, but we know that’s not true. Delgal didn’t “suggest” he learn magic, he wanted a mage who could help himself and his people defy death, which he admits to Thistle openly:

So, why? Why not tell his grandson, at least, the truth of the matter? Did he worry it might make the remaining residents more likely to upset Thistle, and therefore suffer the consequences? Did he just not care? For what it’s worth though, Yaad does suspect the truth from Delgal’s behavior.

He “always blamed himself” for his descent into the dark arts. This is just Yaad’s observation, and that’s without knowing that it was quite literally Delgal’s fault Thistle went down this path. So, why? Why was it all kept a secret?

Of course, this made things ripe for the winged lion to manipulate to its advantage. Clearly despite knowing he’d pushed him into using it, Delgal still thought the lion was a force of good that was misused by Thistle as a result of his madness. His face in that last panel is particularly haunting. He looks terrible, gaunt and pale with overgrown hair and missing teeth. Had he gone mad, with grief and sorrow, as well?

Could he no longer see Thistle the way he did when they were younger? No one can ask him, because he died long before the story even began.

To go back to the original question, well, how did Delgal see Thistle? None of the previous points make a definitive answer any clearer, and I think that’s just brilliant. And so, so tragic.

[cardentist]

it really is convenient that when people want to erase and minimize the danger that trans mascs face there's suddenly never a middle step between being pre-everything and being fully transitioned and perfectly passing, and trans mascs are always conveniently the safest one in every situation.

trans mascs have "afab privilege" because at any given moment they could just pretend to be a conventionally feminine cis woman for safety (which as we know has no associated trauma or danger to it whatsoever).

and of course trans mascs Also have male privilege, because at any given moment they can Only be read as cis men so long as they don't disclose that they're trans (because it's So Easy for trans people to be gender conforming to everyone's standards 100% of the time with no risk of being outed, obviously).

there's never a thought given towards what happens to trans mascs who are somewhere in between or who present one way in the wrong situation.

what happens to the trans masc who's been on T for 10 years who's visibly pregnant? who needs to escape an abusive situation? are they supposed to just perfectly pass as a cis woman to never experience transphobia and get the help that they need? is that their afab privilege at work?

what happens to people who are too masculine to pee in women's restrooms without the risk of getting harassed (or potentially arrested or murdered) but too feminine to risk getting clocked in the men's restrooms? is it male privilege to be afraid of what might happen to you no matter where you go?

and what happens to the fully transitioned trans mascs who don't Want to be masculine, who don't Want to be gender conforming? what happens to the trans mascs who are pre-everything who don't Want to be feminine?

are trans mascs supposed to just conform to whatever gender people Think they should be regardless of how they feel about it forever? and then what, disappear in the middle and come back when they're "Basically Cis Men" ?

what if you don't Want top surgery? what if you don't Want bottom surgery? what if you Can't do hrt for health or safety or money reasons? are you supposed to just suffer forever and choose the safest way to present and call it Privilege?

and none of this is Only relevant to trans mascs, of course it's not.

but trans mascs never get spoken about like we're visibly trans or visibly gnc (unless it's to make fun of us for having huge tits and wanting to go by he/him). and That's what erasure is. to pretend like our experiences do not exist and insist that we don't Deserve help or community because we Obviously have it so easy.

[thebluester2020]

[GI] Kinktober Day 4: "Triple Penetration"

Summary: Since your victory against Tartaglia inside of the Golden House, now that you've healed up properly from your wounds, it seems that your brain can't help but see the harbinger's three forms and their potential in a new light...

Warning(s): Foursome (All 3 of Childe's forms + you), Monsterfuckery(?), Rough Sex, Public sex (In a way, reader and the forms fuck in the Golden House), Fear play, Blood (Reader is bitten but there's not an intense focus on it), Manipulation.

Side Note(s): Finally, an excuse to rant/write about how much I've always wanted to be plowed like a field by Childe's three forms. 🧍

Writing this fic made me realize I need more practice with fivesomes though. 😔

Imagine your shock when you found out that Tartaglia possessed three different forms. Each one stronger and more deadlier than the last.

When you were in the middle of your battle against the harbinger, your heart thrumming against your chest as each attack of his came way too close to either slitting your throat or puncturing a vital organ, you feared him more than anything you had ever feared in your life up until that point. Despite the playful tone he carried throughout the battle, his actions and the way he wielded his weapons spoke a different tune. If he wasn't aiming to kill you, he was at least heavily intent on maiming you. Anything that stopped you from interfering with the Fatui's plans.

To this moment, as you lay in your bed as the steady fall of rain beat against your window outside, you still had no clue how you survived with only a couple of cuts, some bruises, and a few broken ribs! Each thought of him and how you received your injuries made you wince.

And...made you extremely horny.

Perhaps the harbinger had somehow managed to break your brain during the fight.

What was supposed to be fear and perhaps even hatred, you had somehow developed a sick crush on the harbinger as you imagined each of his forms surrounding you whilst you were on the cold marble floor of the Golden House.

"Surrendering? Good..." His base form spoke before he crouched down as a wicked smirk found its way to his lips. "I promise I'll be gentle."

Your thighs clenched at the dirty image that was beginning to form in your head, your hand already traveling south as you delved deeper into your imagination...

. . .

You yelped when the blunt end of Tartaglia's spear slammed into the palm of your hand, all the while a boot pinned down your other one. Your eyes were narrowed as you stared up at the harbinger's three forms, their eyes (or...eye, in terms of Foul Legacy) stared you down before the masked form got on one knee to stare you deep in the face. "C'mon comrade, it was like you weren't putting in any effort at all!" He mocked before he took out a blade that was tucked away inside of his boot.

"It's like you actually wanted us to beat you." He added lowly. Your breath hitched in your throat as he trailed it up your side, over the tops of your breasts all before he slowly...teasingly trailed it down until it hovered just above your clothed pussy.

The three chuckled amongst themselves, Foul Legacy, especially as a long purple tongue flicked out of its mouth to lick over its teeth. "Seems you were focused on something else entirely." It spoke before the masked form flipped up your skirt just enough to be able to cut away your underwear, tossing them aside to be forgotten somewhere before he groaned.

A whine left your lips when a gloved finger pressed against your clit. "Dirty comrade, you were fighting all three of us with such a needy cunt this entire time? I don't know whether to praise or pity you! No wonder you lost." He laughed.

Suddenly, Foul Legacy and Tartaglia's base form knelt down as well, the three large bodies crowding around you before the base form smirked. "Because you still chose to fight us despite having such a big disadvantage...the least we can do is help you, right?" He smirked, your eyes going wide as you watched how he began to fiddle with the belt looped around his pants.

. . .

"S-Shit!" You cried out as the Foul Legacy form currently had you in a mean mating press, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing as you keened at the feeling of his fat cock slamming in and out of your walls. The monstrous form somehow managed to smirk at your noises, his tongue coming out to lick the side of your cheek as a clawed hand came to flick at your nipple. "Feelin' good?" It rumbled out before its head dipped to begin pressing its teeth against your face and neck in its own version of a "kiss".

Until it suddenly clamped down on your shoulder.

The delusion unleashed form laughed mockingly at the yelp you let out as he stroked his cock just above your face, your panting mouth tasting the salty pre-cum that dripped from his cock. "Such a lewd expression comrade..." He said with a smirk as he aimed his cock to your lips. "If you had graced us with such an expression—" He interrupted himself with a groan as he slipped into your mouth, taking advantage of your fucked-out expression and how brainless you were quickly becoming thanks to the Foul Legacy fucking you mercilessly. "—S-Shit...we would've had a much more fun ending to our battle."

"I don't know...that look of pain on your face was addicting as well," The base form purred against your breasts as he sucked and lightly nipped at one whilst he tended to the other with his hand.

Suddenly, he pinched at your nipple. The delusion unleashed form cursing under his breath at the way your throat suddenly tightened around his cock. Despite the rough treatment although...you relished in the feeling of being used so thoroughly, your quickly approaching orgasm nearly giving you whiplash as you struggled to ground yourself via grabbing onto anything that you could manage to grab. Something that the Foul Legacy sensed as his teeth unclamped from around your shoulder, licking your blood from off his teeth with a satisfied growl. "You gonna cum pretty~?" It said.

You flinched at the feeling of its claws moving against your cunt, the sharp yet delicate feel of it making you clench even tighter around the monster, eliciting in a hiss from it. "Fuckin' tight—" Then, it suddenly curled its knuckles before it pressed them against your clit immediately starting a rapid pace as he moved them against your clit. You screamed around the delusion unleashed's cock at the mind-numbing pleasure, the man above you nearly keeling over as a deep-bellied groan left his lips.

"Don't you even think of cumming without us girlie..." He hissed out. "There'll be a punishment you definitely won't like if you do."

Your eyes fluttered at the threat, your hand shakily rising to stroke at the section of the delusion unleashed's cock that wouldn't fit into your willing mouth. Suddenly though, the Foul Legacy and base form groaned in unison, a faint fapping noise reaching your ears as you managed to piece together that the base form was touching himself as he played and sucked your nipples. "Ah..." He moaned. "I-I'm close—" He clenched his teeth, his words being the final nail in the coffin as you felt the knot in your stomach grow impossibly tight before...the Foul Legacy felt a gushing against his abdomen.

The delusion unleashed released a drawn-out moan as he came down your throat at the dirty sight, your glistening arousal splattering against the Foul Legacy's cock as your hands flew to dig your nails into its shoulders. The base form suddenly stilled as he came on your sides, his eyes slamming shut as he moaned and sucked even more harshly on your nipple.

As the two baser forms came down from their eyes, one slipping his cock from your mouth while the other parted his mouth from your breast. They both smirked at the sight of your cock-drunk form still being fucked silly on the Foul Legacy's cock.

With you clenching so impossibly tight around the monstrous form's dick, however...it wasn't too much longer until it came with a near bone-shattering snarl, its claws unintentionally sinking into your thighs as they drew blood whilst its long tongue slipped out from its mouth to lick at your arousal that coated his abdomen. There was a steady buzzing in your ears as you came down from your high, your entire body aching in such a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.

Perhaps...in reality, you'd have to find Tartaglia again in order to see if you could make your daydream become reality...

[northopalshore]

Pick A Card: ☆

Your next relationship

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Choose an image & group respectively.

Pile one:

Decks used: Dreaming way tarot, sacred earth oracle, oracle of mystical moments & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

So immediately jumping in, your next relationship will be with someone who is very goal driven. They are very passionate, intelligent & skillful. This person may have come from a lower financial status growing up. Only being able to get by on a daily basis. This person has probably been surrounded by amazing and talented people who are very dedicated to their craft, and hence grown to develop a similar habit.

Their main goal in life is to get rich lol. They want to be at a point where they can look back and not recognise themselves in the position they once were in financially. This is somebody who works wholeheartedly on their craft. They may be involved in independent business or they are working on their own brand.

They may have a very young heart as well, always looking at things from a hopeful perspective. However, they are also very logical! They are able to plan their ventures and predict things that may or may not happen with every step that they take towards their goal! That desire to change their lives will always remain as a priority & main motivation for them to continue on their path.

This person will likely have an extroverted approach to life. Wanting to explore and see everything the world has to offer.

Their career may be very competitive, and their ideas or brand may come under scrutiny very often. If they work ina directive company for example, people was have dissatisfactions with how they present themselves or thing they may be to rash when coming up with new suggestions. However, they are resilient lol! I feel like they have a lot of potential for greatness, but by the time you meet them they are somewhere in the middle of their journey.

Your relationship will be intertwined with your career. This person will be the one to get your engines running, and to reignite that passion you might have held out in the rain before. They will act as a guide to you and help you realise things you may have overlooked before.

They will prove themselves to be a very stable companion. They will teach you to be fearless & confident when it comes to your passions and beliefs.

I feel like you'll bond over common interests and backgrounds . They may be from a different race than you as well! If you work with your hands i.e build, writing, drawing, animating and so on, this person will be on your side during sudden late night inspirational drives lol. This means they will be awake with you, talking and supporting what you do even when you're both supposed to be asleep.

You will be able to draw out the both the passionate and gentle side of eachother. Respecting boundaries and personal wishes going forward.

I feel like you'll meet them through chance, or coincidentally you work in the same department for example but you will be able to click immediately.

They could have Libra, Cancer, Gemini & Pisces placements in their charts.

MBTI wise, I feel like they could be an ENFJ, ENFP, ESTJ, ESTP, ENTP, & INTJ.

Pile two:

Decks used: Modern witch tarot, bluebird lenormard & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚

Oooh pile two, this person is honestly incredible.

So first of all, they are someone very optimistic & rational. They perhaps have been born into wealth or have been blessed with a higher position in life than most. They are very mature and very calm & collected. When they speak, people may find it impossible to dispute them or overtake them. This person perhaps is great at debates or could work as a lawyer (or come from a family of lawyers). They are the type to value intelligence & fair judgement over any irrationality. They could be an only child or grew up being cared for fully by their parents. They may have shown great leadership qualities even from a young age. They are very humble & down to earth despite being at a position of power. They could own a business or inherit a business from their family. You will think that they are a dream come true or even too good to be real. Perhaps they were very studious in their younger years, performing much better than other students or seen as more mature relative to people their age. I feel like this might as well be the person you end up marrying because four of wands has shown up lol. Their parents could be divorced or living in different countries/states. They may have developed objective opinions on marriage as well. For example, if they are a woman they do not think that a man can provide her with anything she doesn't already have. They could want to marry for love rather than business or for practicality. They want to form genuine relationships with people they know are worthwhile (in their perspective). Perhaps people have used them as a means to lift themselves up and this has hurt your person. Your relationships could be very flirtatious. You both may be quite weary of eachother at first but you will soon find comfort in eachother's presence. Perhaps you will discover a soft side neither of you could have expected you'd get to. It reminds me of Anastasia and Dimitri's relationship lol. Rocky at the start but they soon develop deep feelings for eachother. They could have Sagittarius, Leo, Pisces, Aquarius & Virgo prominent in their charts. MBTI wise, they could be an ENTJ, INTJ, ENFJ, ENFP, INFJ, ISTJ, ISTP & INTP.

Pile three:

Decks used: VOX ( voice of tarot) arcana, The literary witches oracle & astrological oracle

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧

Welcome pile 3! So your next relationship will be with someone who I can only describe as stubborn & possessive but very unique and full of ambition. I feel like this person has had a fair share for admirers or past relationships that may not have ended very well, and has since then been quite abstinent of love or the dating scene.

They have since learned to control their energy, and find satisfaction in being alone with themselves i.e putting themselves before relationships.

They may be quite materialistic or pay a lot of attention to their finances. They are very tactical and resourceful. There may have been disagreements or issues regarding their finances. Perhaps they have had legal issues with the company they work with or there may be issues with inheritance.

This person is extremely charming and charismatic. They may have the ability to sweep you off your feet & without even realising it you'll fall for their many charms lol. They could be quite hot hearted ( & hot headed) as well, and very direct with their feelings. Your relationship will be hot and passionate, you will feel like you have manifested eachother into your lives.

They may break the expectation you might have regarding the type of people you would usually go after romantically i.e their personality will be more in your face instead of quiet and reserved.

You may be thrill seekers when you are together, and you may find that the energy can be very heavy or s*xual. You will have a lot of fun in that department lol.

They can act sort of tsundere too as in they may act mischievously or playfully, they could also like to see you getting riled up 👀 lmao. They could have Taurus, Capricorn, Scorpio, Pisces, Leo & Aries prominent in their chart. MBTI wise, they could be ENTP, ENTJ, ESTP, ENFP, ESTJ, ISTP, ISFP & ISTJ

──────────୨ৎ───────────

***entertainment purposes only: reader discretion is advised***

None of the images are mine, all rights reserved to their original creators on Pinterest

Thanks for reading!

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 pick a card.

[copperbadge]

I'm researching second-line medications for ADHD, because the Adderall works well for the executive function but non-pharmaceutical solutions are simply not effective for the emotional dysregulation, which I think the Adderall might be making worse, apparently that can happen.

But what's wild to me is that it seems as though the most effective treatments for ADHD, first or second line, almost all come in one of two flavors:

-- High potential for addiction

-- Used outside of ADHD as a treatment for addiction

There are definitely some treatments that fall somewhere in the middle, but it's hilarious how often my notes read stuff like "Second-line treatment for ADHD, can be used with stimulants, also used for smoking cessation/substance use disorder/individuals with history of alcohol misuse". It's almost like addiction frequently has biological causes related to emotional regulation and impulsivity and can be treated medically. Fancy that.

I've also found fascinating anecdotes by people with ADHD who prior to their diagnosis were struggling with addiction to opiates and were able to stop when they got on stimulant medication -- which "shouldn't be a thing" because opiates are depressants, not stimulants, and shouldn't impact ADHD. I've seen the theory floated that it's not stimulant/depressant that matters so much as impact on dopamine production and reception, but who the hell knows honestly.

It is interesting to me, though, because despite the jokes I've made in the past I've always watched myself very closely when it comes to opiates. I became well aware fairly early on that "oh, this is the drug that I could get in trouble over", but part of that was always that if I took a Vicodin, I would actually go do stuff like the dishes or the laundry or my essays for grad school, and that felt really good.

Anyway, I don't think it's often discussed that medication which increases your ability to do stuff can also overblow your ability to feel stuff, and also medication for emotional regulation may also boost you onto the wagon. So there you have it.

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[inarvii]

˚☽˚｡- AN AMPLE WAGER

Aventurine isn't one to express how he feels, but he finds himself longing and desperate when he decides to neglect IPC protocol and go on a mission alone. It's astounding what just one game of Black Jack can do.

OR

Revelations occur when you save Aventurine, and he saves you.

wc - 4.7k

Warnings - Blood, Gore, Slightly Nsfw

“What beautiful eyes.”

That’s the first sentence you ever said to Aventurine. 

Although he had just been promoted to manager of the Senior Investment Department, the IPC still considered him new. Becoming a manager meant meeting fellow managers of other departments for the first time. 

It meant meeting you, a Senior Manager of the Marketing Development Department. So he stayed over in the meeting room to introduce himself to you while others packed their stuff and fled. But you beat him to the punch. 

It was the first compliment he had received about his eyes. Others had thought them to be “unsettling” or even “bird-like.” Your words had shattered his snarky persona, and his eyebrows raised. Before he could even answer, you followed up your compliment with a question. 

“You walk around like that?” You ask, your hands grasping at papers on the meeting room table. 

Aventurine’s brow quirks, his mind puzzled by your words as he stands in front of your desk. 

You laugh, entertained by his confusion. “With your eyes for everyone to see?” 

He doesn’t respond; instead, his eyes travel over you as you walk closer to him. Your hand sneaks to his shoulder, and when your lips get closer to his ear you whisper, “Be careful now. Such pretty eyes would go for a hefty price if the right person found them.”

You pull your business card out of your blouse pocket. “They’re a privilege to look at as well.” You smile, holding the card in front of him. He takes it hesitantly. 

Aventurine watches as you walk towards the office door, seemingly having somewhere to be. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” you say. “Oh, and congrats on the promotion,” you wink. Then the sound of your heels click and clack down the hallway and Aventurine stares at your business card, twirling it between his fingers. 

The next time he sees you, he wears shades 

However, he makes sure to take them off when speaking to you—wanting to give you the privilege. 

At times, Aventurine thinks that there is no other place that he belongs more in than the IPC. 

Being a Manager for the Strategic Investment Department gives him opportunities like no other. Although his job was to spot depleting planets that had the potential for profit, the IPC gives Aventurine plenty of more ways to invest his time. 

Like investing in people. 

And, oh, what a great investment you were. 

He learns so much by your side. He learns what other managers to avoid in different departments. He learns how to navigate the brash personality of Diamond. He learns how to use his tongue more efficiently to get what he wants. 

Like when you kiss. 

When you touch.

When you fuck. 

It’s been different doing all those things with you. It’s never forced when it comes to you. It’s never a transaction like how it was before he came to the IPC. Oh, he learns a great deal, but it leaves him scared of the difference. He wants to kiss you. He wants to touch you. He doesn’t just want to fuck you, but he wants to make love with you. And this scares him greatly. 

But he’ll never admit those things out loud. He barely admits it to himself inside his head when his arms are wrapped around you in the middle of the night, and his thoughts begin to run in the back of his mind. Aventurine is able to adapt quickly. It just seems your gentle affection he can’t comprehend

Aventurine had gotten comfortable. 

He was too used to his position of power at the IPC. It made him forget that he was but an endangered species to everyone looking in. 

“Beautiful eyes,” the man says to him as he closes in on Aventurine, too close for comfort.  Raga was his name. His frame was built and bulky, along with the accomplice that sat on the other side of the room. Aventurine doesn’t remember his name due to the twist of dread that fills his stomach at Raga’s words. 

The compliment doesn’t sound much like one to Aventurine’s ears. He cringes in disgust at it instead of feeling the excitement when you had given him the very same compliment all those years ago. 

“Heh, why thank you, Sir. ”He reaches for his shades in his coat pocket and takes a step backward, trying to regain his personal space. 

“They’re a privilege to look at…” 

He hears your voice ring in his ears like a reminder. A privilege—he reassures himself. A privilege that the man in front of him is undeserving of. 

He flicks out his sunglasses. But as his shades reach towards his eyes, Raga grabs his wrist. Aventurine’s eyes dart upward to meet the man’s. 

“Tryna hide them from me?” 

The blond smiles sweetly, yanking his wrist out of Raga’s grasp in the process. “Such pretty eyes come with a downside, Sir.” He puts on his glasses, making sure they're snug on his face. “They’re quite sensitive.” He lies. One of the perks of being the sole survivor of an extinct race was that there was no one to fact-check him. 

“Only eyes like those can belong to a Sigonian.” Aventurine’s head snaps to the man sitting down in the chair. “And working for the IPC too?”

The bulky man looks back at Aventurine. “Well, color me impressed! A Sigonian this far from home?” He lets out a booming chuckle that causes him to almost wheeze. “Well, I guess you ain’t got none, do ya?” 

The man slaps Aventurine on his back. “I thought all y’all were all dead.” 

Aventurine forces a laugh. “Well, you get to see a miracle today, don’t you.” He'd rather not go into detail about his home, so he just continues to plaster a grin on his face.  

The man walks closer—cornering Aventurine once again. “Those eyes of yours sure are a miracle, too, huh? 

Aventurine can only glare up at the man. 

“Hey, Chidi!” The man calls. So that was his name? “How much does a Sigonian eye go for ya think?”

Aventurine’s gaze doesn’t leave the man that leers down at him when the other answers. “Not sure…but maybe we can continue our negotiation if we find out.” 

The bulky one grins. “How’s that sound?” 

“You’ve never played Russian Roulette?” There’s genuine confusion on your face when you ask. But Aventurine can’t help but eye the backside of your naked body as you try to meticulously fix your sex-ridden hair in the mirror. 

You pull out one of Aventurine’s shirts and put it on. 

“We can’t have an IPC strategist losing his bets,” you say as you sift through your clothes. “Here, let me show you.” 

The next thing he sees is your revolver in your hand. You fling out the cylinder and empty all the bullets in your hand. 

He remembers only looking at your glossy and bruised lips as your painted fingers slowly put a round into the gun. 

You give it a spin and fling the cylinder back in place with one hand as you creep onto the soft comforter of Aventurine’s bed. He can’t help but watch as you get closer and closer to him with a smirk of mischief that only The Elation would be proud of. 

Your hands grab his’ as you put the gun in his hand. Your fingers are soft—welcoming as you guide the weapon to your heart. The barrel touches your chest and Aventurine notices the small movement of your breast. 

You smile and lean towards him. His facial expression stays unwavering, but his eyes intrigued as they meet yours. 

“One in six,” you say. “A one in six chance that you’ll shed blood, take a life, end a path.” Your free hand snakes to Aventurine’s thigh, your thumb leaving soothing circles on his skin. His head tilts back ever so slightly, and he smiles. “That’s what this game is.” 

Your fingers guide his thumb to the hammer, pulling it down.

“Wanna take the chance?” You question—tilting your head. 

What a game this was. Aventurine jerks the gun from your grasp, taking the bullet out of the barrel. He chuckles breathlessly. “And here I thought you weren’t as crazy as everyone else here.” He leans back, triggering the safety on the gun. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Have to be a little crazy to be a big shot here,” you reply. Your hands replace the gun in Aventurine’s hands as you crawl over his frame.”Don't you think?” Your lips press to his cheek, his neck, and then his chest. He leans into every one. When you give him this affection, he wonders if you mean it. Or if it's just part of the arrangement you two have. 

“Why do people play this game?” He groans, closing his eyes and leaning back on the headboard. “You win nothing b-“ A gasp slips from himself after you give him a small nip on his collarbone. He tries again. ”…but can lose everything.”

You leave one more chaste kiss just below his jaw and lift your head up. “Power,” you answer. 

Your hand is still in Aventurine’s as he opens his eyes to gaze at you. Your head tilts. “If you avoided the fates of death, would you, too, not feel on par with an Aeon?”

He sighs. What a game. What a crazy and outlandish game. 

He might actually like it if he were on the other side of the gun instead of you. 

Aventurine is a lucky man. He always has been. 

He’s lucky that you’ve been paired up with him to come to this planet–he’s also lucky that you’re quick on your feet. 

He shouldn’t have come to this negotiation alone—if you could even call it that. He should have waited for you. Maybe then you both wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place and maybe then you wouldn’t be cleaning up his mess in the form of two twisted games merged as one. 

This small planet had been corrupted over the years. Its government had been rendered useless against a hate group's planned coup d’etat. Their citizens now only obeyed and obliged them. It was now yours and Aventurine’s job to either rebuild the government or eradicate the new one—whichever was faster. You both knew which was faster. 

So there you two were standing in front of this so called “Leader” as you humored him with a potential way to get the eye he apparently desired.

“I love a good game,” you had announced when you arrived.“How about we play one for it?” Your fingers gently grazed Aventurine’s eyelid, sending him a flirtatious but knowing smile. Your warning had come to fruition. 

Black Jack. 

It was Aventurine’s favorite game he had learned since becoming a Stoneheart–a freed man–a human being. He thinks it’s because it punishes those who feel overzealous but simultaneously those who are too modest. A perfect balance, he thinks.

But the men had suggested playing it differently, a way that involved more risk. The loser of each round would have to play one game of Russian Roulette. However, another bullet was added to the chamber after each round. 

How exciting. 

You both obliged. He knew that you wouldn't disagree to such an exhilarating twist on a game beloved by everyone in the IPC. However, when one of the men suggests that you be the dealer, Aventurine notices the way your lip twitches slightly. What he fails to notice, however, is the way you somberly sneak a glance at him in worry. 

The tension in the room fills the air like thick smog as the first round commences. There’s nothing but silence as you deal out the cards. 

One by one, a string of commands comes your way from each man. 

“Hit.”

“Hit.”

“Hit.” 

“Hit.”

“Hit”

“Stay.” The built man to your left says. 

“Hit.” Aventurine smiles. 

When the time comes when all must show their hands, Aventurine is the first to offer. He presents a nice even 18, and you a 20. 

Raga spreads his cards before him, showcasing a total of 14. 

You frown unapologetically. “Mmm, looks like it’s too low.” You get up from your sitting position and pull out your revolver. Everyone watches as you take a bullet and put it in the chamber, giving it a good spin. 

You stand in front of the burly man, gun to his forehead. He smiles. Oh, it’s a sickly smile. A smile that exudes hunger and madness. You smile back, of course. 

“Say, I thought your people were ones to brute force with negotiations, not play petty games.” You tilt your head expectantly. 

He laughs, the smell of liquor wafting in the air as a result. “Everyone knows the IPC ain’t ones to be messed with, pretty. Do us good to play fai-“

Click 

Theres silence. But soon follows a snicker from the other side of the table from Aventurine. He practically coos at the man’s dumbfounded expression. 

“Hmm.” You remove the gun from the man’s forehead. “Ever the lucky one,” you commend with a smirk. 

The man on the other side of the room starts to cause a ruckus, but Raga calms him down with a wave of his finger. 

He smiles. “Couldn’t have two pretty things if I were dead.” His dark eyes drift to Aventurine and then back to you. 

Aventurine refuses to let his smile drop, although it yearns to. 

The next round is then set in motion. 

Cards are dealt, drawn, and played. When the time comes for all to flip their cards over, it doesn't matter the poker faces shown throughout the round or if Raga’s hand is closer to 21 than Aventurine’s because Aventurine says one small word when he tallies up the total of his hand.

“Bust.”

His shades glint in the dim yellow light of the room, and he shows a beaming smile. Your heart sinks, but poker faces are never turned off on the clock when you are an IPC manager. So, you neatly place your own cards down and begin to stand. 

Aventurine watches as you take the gun out of your holster. His eyes follow your every move as you add another bullet to the chamber. When the chamber is flicked back in place, he smiles at you sweetly–innocently. Like this is all a game of checkers. 

You say nothing and point the gun to his heart. 

He chuckles. “Want me to suffer, huh?” His gloved hands gently meet your hand, and he moves the gun so it points at his head, the cold metal stinging his skin. 

His peacock-esque eyes put on a performance for you as he looks up through his blond eyelashes. “If my luck runs out, at least make it quick, boss.” 

His smirk is sickening, but your face stays that of a stone. You pull the hammer down and…

click 

You’re silent, but your actions speak for yourself. You quickly remove the gun from his head, causing all eyes around the room to stay lingering on you. You forcefully lighten your expression, forming a smile on your lips. “Hm.”

“What?” Aventurine questions playfully. “Did ya doubt me?” He just watches as you turn your back without a word and begin to set up the table for the next round. 

Its a quick round. One filled with few distractions. And when it’s time for everyone to flip their cards, all at the table are surprised at your hand, including yourself. 

Black Jack. 

You look around, observing the men’s hands. Aventurine smirks, his eyes practically sparkling at the outcome. He holds an almost perfect hand of 21. His opponent, not so lucky, grumbles as he slaps the deck of cards on the table–his cards only adding up to a measly 17. 

You stand up from your seat and begin to make your way over to Raga. Your fingers fiddle and twirl the bullet in your hand. The chamber opens with a clank, and you gently slide the bullet in place, giving it a good spin before closing it. 

“That’s three,” you warn. Your shoulders are squared as you aim at the man’s head. “You could call this all off now if you like.”You bend down to his level and give and furrow your brows “Is it really worth it?” You ask. 

“Think I can’t win?” He asks boldly as he puffs out his chest.

You smile sweetly. “I think bullets don’t care what your title is, Raga of the Waste.”

You pull the hammer, and Raga grins ear to ear at your smooth voice, calling him by his self-proclaimed title. That is until there’s a loud-

Bang!

Silence fills the room like no other.

Until there isn't. 

A wet noise riddled with death plagues everyone’s ears. Shock and fear fill Raga’s eyes as a gargling noise escapes from his throat. Blood threatens to make its way out his mouth as he claws at the wound in his heart. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the trail of blood escape his lips, and a small smile appears on your face. 

Maybe it wasn’t small enough. 

Because then your head is being grabbed and crushed down to the floor as screams and shouts mixed with the wet gasps of death flood your ear. 

“You bitch!”

“You knew, didn’t you!” 

“Answer me!”

The wind has been knocked out of you, but you still manage to laugh hysterically–your mind just as gone as your physical body. This angers the man, causing him to grab you by the neck, squeezing the life out of you while you’re on your back. You choke, still smiling at him. Your vision becomes blurry. Your mind hazy. Your eyes watery. You can barely even see the man’s malicious expression over top of you. 

A sudden loud noise makes you flinch, followed by a sharp, irritating ringing in your ears. A warm, wet liquid begins to drip, drip, drip on your cheek. The man’s grip on your neck begins to fade, and your vision returns just enough to see his eyes roll in the back of his head. 

The next instant, your chest is being crushed by the dead weight of the man on top of you, his body limp and lifeless. 

You gasp. Wrangled coughs begin to erupt from you as your chest heaves up and down–gasping for air. You look to your left, the sight of splattered brains and blood littering the wall behind you. The smell of iron floods your nostrils. Aventurine stands above you. His own chest heaves as his gun still points at the dead man’s body. You look up at him through your wet lashes, his gun just as flashy as him. You wonder how he was able to conceal it withou-

Bang!

He fires again. The noise makes you flinch, causing your body to jump back to reality. His nostrils flare, and there is a look of pure rage and insanity as he looks down at the already deceased man.

Then he fires again. 

And again.  

And when the last round fires into the limp man’s body, you can’t even think to react to it anymore. 

You both stay still taking in the newfound quietness–the newfound safety. There are only small breaths as you both calm down, the adrenaline leaving your bodies. 

Aventurine breathes in harshly through his nose and licks his lips. “Tell Jade…” He lifts his glasses up, resting them on the crown of his head. You watch as his hands shake as he does so. 

“Yeah…” You breathlessly agree, already knowing what he’s about to say. You squirm beneath the man’s body and lift his weight off of you.“That we’re not doing business…with this shit hole of a planet.”

He offers you his handkerchief.

You take it graciously while walking ahead of him–your strides unusually long. “Wasn’t that something?” Aventurine humors. You continue to walk as you rid your face of the almost dried blood on your face. 

Aventurine tries to catch up to you. His steps hold a slight bounce in them as he does so while readjusting the hat on his head. “You’re hot with blood on yourself,” he flirts, trying to cut the tension. “I ever tell you that?”

You stay silent and keep your pace, wiping the remainder of the blood that imposes itself on your skin. You politely hand him back his handkerchief. When it reaches his hands, he looks down at it, his eyes weary. 

“Besides the last part, you have fun?” He inquires. ”Bet you got a kick outta pointing a gun to my hea-”

There's a loud smack as the palm of your hand meets the side of his face. Silence follows, and you look down upon him as his head hands down to the side. He groans slightly as his hand makes its way to soothe the stinging pain of his cheek. 

When he recovers, all he can manage to do is look you in the eyes like a kicked puppy when his gaze lands on your mortified face–made so by his previous words. 

Your horror turns into anger as you bear into his soul before you turn and walk away without a word. 

You had taken a shower to remove the smell of iron and brain matter from your skin, but you had left the bathroom door closed, seemingly uninviting Aventurine to bathe with you. 

He waits for you patiently. When you come out clean and dressed, his hand tenderly trails to your neck in worry, the bruise becoming more visible now that your skin has been cleansed.

Your hand reaches for his. You take it away from your neck and squeeze gently. “I’m alright,” you reassure him as you lay down on the bed of the hotel room. He follows. 

He doesn’t like this, and he doesn’t like what you do to him. For Aeons' sake, you slapped him hours earlier and haven’t said a word since. 

Yet he follows you like a weak lap dog as your silence makes him more and more worried. You had struck him down and given him a look of utter disgust and horror. Hell, he might even like it if it were in the right context. But he believes he hates your silence more than being bitch slapped. 

He doesn't know what to say or how to feel, and he is clueless about how to make things right. 

So, he resorts to what he knows. Pleasure. 

Your thoughts are still processing while you lay down on your back in the cold hotel room. Your arm sprawls across your eyelids to block the sunlight that intrudes past the curtains. 

Aventurine places a kiss on your jaw. 

You let out a sigh. “I told you not to go without me.” Your voice is soft but stern, not at all reflecting the look of disgust you had given him before arriving back from the mission.

His lips travel to your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispers softly. He tries to show it by suckling at the tender spot between your shoulder and neck, eliciting a small gasp from you. His fingertips gently trace along your neck, your soft skin now forming a bruise from the previous pressure. 

You let out a slow muffled moan. “You almost died.”

He trails small pecks down to your stomach, his hand traveling underneath your shirt to tenderly grope one of your breasts, “Hah, me? Never.” He presses his lips down to praise your skin, 

“I could’ve killed you,” you rebuttal. 

“I wouldn’t mind dying by your hands.”

“Don’t say that, please.” Your eyes are still closed, and you let out a small sigh of frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as his mouth traps down to your hips, and his fingers hook underneath your underwear. 

“Kakavasha.” Your voice is sharp and in the present, as you yank his head up with your hand. You say no words, but your eyes speak for you. You don't have to do this. Talk to me. Listen to me. Your eyes beg him. There’s a hint of shock and pain in his beautiful eyes at the sound of his birth-given name. He waits patiently for you to speak, a worried expression riddling your face. 

“Don’t say that! I could’ve killed you!” You reiterate with a scream. 

“Okay, oka-”

“Why would you do that?” You question. Your own iris’ staring into his with fire in them. “The IPC needs you. You’re too valuable, and you would throw your life away?” You scream. “And let me be the cause?”

He looks at you in bewilderment. He had never seen you with this much panic in your eyes–in your voice–in your body language. You’re stiff as your hand still gently grips his blond locks. Your poker face at the time had fooled him, too. You were always calm; collected. He thought you enjoyed the game as much as he did…that is…until he started not enjoying it… 

Flashes of your face enter his mind. Replaying like a broken DVD on a loop. He sees your face turning a wild shade of blue, red, and purple, with the man’s hands on your neck. He comes back to reality, his eyes finding the bruise on your neck. 

“Me?” He questions, his voice raising, much different from his normal nonchalant tone of voice. “You act as if you weren’t dying on the floor.” He takes a sharp breath inward. After all that happened you chose to worry about him? “Be angry at me for almost getting you killed god damn it, not for playing a stupid game!” 

You let go of his hair in shock as he continues. “What the hell do you think would’ve happened to me if they found you dead and me alive?” 

It is at that moment that you both realize what you’re trying to do. You both aim to cover up your glaring emotions with selfish reasoning, to mask the wanting feeling in your chests with your calculated words.  

He’s the first to break as his voice begins to crack. “What would I do without you?” His eyes look into yours, and the weight of his question settles in on your heart. “What do you think would’ve happened to me without you here?”

You don’t answer; you only stare at him in bewilderment. He doesn't let you answer–gratefully– because you're not sure if you have one.

“And you were laughing—” he adds. His frame crawls on top of you. “Why were you laughing?” His eyes reflect the utter amazement and shock that he feels remembering your strained laughs, even in the face of death. 

With his body so close to you–with his face so close to yours, you have no choice but to answer him. 

“I wouldn’t mind dying by anyone’s hand,” you reply quietly, barely above a whisper. 

Aventurine’s own words replay in his mind as his eyes widen at your declaration. “Don’t say that!” he grunts, his hand grabbing your chin roughly. His fingers and thumb squish into both sides of your cheeks as he leans forward, his face mere centimeters from yours. “Why would you say that?” His voice is breathy when he questions you. You’ve never seen him so worked up, with so much pain in his eyes, so…vulnerable. 

He lets go of your chin and continues to stare into your eyes–a mutual level of understanding found between you two in the thick silence. A somber look. 

Both tired of working.

Of negotiating.

Of investing.

Both wearied of your lives. 

Aventurine breaks eye contact, and his head begins to sag. He whispers. “I shouldn't have gone alone. I-I shouldn't have had you fix my messes…”

“Shh, shh,” you interject. Your gentle hand travels to his cheek, where you had struck him, as you lift his head up. You usher him closer, and your foreheads meet. “You did well, Kakavasha,” you whisper softly to him. A sigh escapes his lips at the praise. “Please, be careful,” you plead. 

Aventurine nods ever so slightly. “Only if you are,” he counters, leaning forward to kiss you. His tongue slips in between your lips. It’s eager, yes. But it’s like no other kiss that you usually share with him. The ones filled with pleasure, want, and lust. Instead, it’s filled with another word that Aventurine dares not think of because it scares him too greatly. 

But there is a lingering feeling inside him that thinks you might feel it too.

Don’t date your coworkers, chat. Especially if ur both lowkey suicidal. Also, you know I had to make him say “bust.” C’mon now.

ty for making it to the end, whew. reblogs are appreciated. <3

[anomaliex]

Thinking about the bad kids in a more classic adventuring party context. The only time we really see the them out adventuring for a prolonged amount of time and camping and stuff is sophomore year, but I'd assume they get other slightly less fate of the world deciding assignments like that? Also they're probably out camping with the hangvan during the night yorb stuff.

If they have to camp somewhere potentially dangerous (which is. Anywhere you'd have to camp at.) obviously Adaine keeps watch at night because she only has to trance for four hours. Elf takes the night watch this is like adventuring 101. But Riz for sure does the other half so she can really rest during her trance. Should Riz sleep more than four hours? For sure. Does he? No. His body is so used to it that four hours is a perfectly functional long rest. Only slightly concerning. I think it always goes Riz stays up super late (and is maybe working out clues and stuff while the others are resting and he's keeping watch) and then Adaine gets her four hours in and "gets up" early. Riz is Riz so he only sleeps next to or on her so that if something is wrong he gets woken up as quickly as possible.

Also they all sleep with their weapons/spell casting focuses close by. (Riz and Adaine do this at home too which is slightly overkill but Adaine does have every anxiety disorder and Riz probably. Either has anxiety or ocd or both so that's. Fair.) Kristen fully hugs her staff (and the teddy!) in her sleep. The heavy metal axe or the infaethable bass are clunky and big but Gorgug and Fig at least sleep as close to them as possible. Could reach over and grab them type deal. Adaine just keeps the sword of sight on her since she can trance sitting so it's not a bother or anything. The sword of shadows DOES bother Riz sleeping but he still keeps it on him. His arquebus is directly under whatever padding he's using to sleep so it's hidden and he can pull it out. Fabian obviously keeps Fandrangor close by but he fully never stops physically touching his battle sheet. Mechanically I'm pretty sure it acts as both his spell casting focus and the shield for his protection fighting style so I like to think he drapes it over whatever friend is closest to him along with himself. Keeping his friends safe :) (also warm. I think it's always warm even though it's thin because of the fire elemental)

Oh also also. The Hangman. In motor cycle form it's pretty straight forward but if he's in hellhound form because they're traversing a forest or something and being a motorcycle is just. So inconvenient. (Which also means they couldn't have possibly travelled with or slept in the hangvan) He curls up around Fabian (and again whoever is closest) because big dog protect. Also sometimes his snout is in Fabian's lap because I'm obsessed with him just being a big dog okay. He's so cute.

Actually it makes a lot of sense to me if either Gorgug or Fabian is sleeping close to whoever is keeping watch because they're obviously the more tanky party members and the ones keeping watch are the wizard and the rogue. Also they're both on the outside (with, if possible the hangvan and also the hangman covering them on either side if that makes sense?) while their full casters and rogue are in the middle. I know Fig has Paladin levels and good AC post junior year (and would probably still like to adventure with them even without being a student) but she still operates on bard hit points and also old habits die hard so she's gotta be in the protection cluster. Also she likes cuddling with her friends let her cuddle with her friends in the cluster.

(Side Note. At lower levels being the damage sponge is absolutely a barbarian's job but at higher levels where a lot of enemies do the types of damage non bear totem barbarians don't halve they get slightly less effective at it ((though they still have much more hit points than any of their other party members so they're certainly still good at it)) and are often the most effective just for damage output. So as they get older I'd almost say Fabian has more comfortably slotted himself into the protector role ((will never get over his goading attack defensive flourish thing it's so. Nice from a character standpoint. Doesn't try to be his father anymore but he feels strong and right when protecting his friends, still so eccentric.)) while Gorgug is the more forward aggressor? ((Especially with his smites or when he's hasted!! Which is also so cool from a character standpoint. Settled into artificing and more in touch with his own rage.)) But hey still both front liners and mostly interchangeable in that regard. Both WILL be Adaine's meat shield if she needs it.) But yeah just decided that Fabian sleeps closer to Adaine and Riz while Kristen and Fig are halfway on top of Gorgug. They're all in a cluster anyway but. Yeah.

Also I just like thinking about how to a certain extend characters of Spyre are aware of game mechanics. Like Brennan said they're actually studying how to be their individual classes. They probably don't "roll" in their heads or think of their stats as numbers or anything but good strategising like they did in the last stand or the battle with Porter and the Rat grinders is in universe the characters applying knowledge that they've partially acquired through experience but also just. Literally go to school for. They go to school for adventuring. I imagine nerds like Riz or Fabian who's a battlemaster are especially aware of party composition, positioning in battle etc but like all of them have to be. So yeah that's cool. Spellcasters probably get told specific conditions for common problems like counterspell even if they can't learn it so they can stay out of range of it, stuff like that.

[ms-snape]

Can we do something platonic? Reader is a wallflower, basically almost all the time is in the sidelines and no one notices her, she’s accepted she’s not that bright or that pretty but snape notices she’s actually good at potions and in his own way tries to encourage her potential 

Title: Noticed

Warning: Plaronic relationships, a bit of angst, insecurity

Words Count: 2900+

Masterlist

---

Y/n had grown used to the way people never truly saw her. It was like living in a haze, watching life happen around her but never being a part of it. Day after day, she sat quietly in the back of classrooms, observing the way others interacted, laughing, whispering, and forming connections she knew she’d never be part of. No one looked twice at Y/n—not even once most of the time.

She wasn’t like the other girls at Hogwarts. She wasn’t pretty, or at least not in the way that people admired. Her hair didn’t catch the sunlight like golden threads, her eyes weren’t the kind that sparkled when she laughed (if she ever did), and her smile didn’t light up the room. In fact, she rarely smiled anymore. There wasn’t much to smile about.

Her grades were fine—never the top of the class, but she managed to stay afloat, drifting somewhere in the middle where she neither failed nor excelled. The professors didn’t call on her often, perhaps forgetting she was even there. It was fine. Y/n had learned to accept her place on the sidelines.

There was a dull, heavy ache that lived deep inside her, a quiet sadness that made her feel small and invisible, even in her own skin. She had stopped trying to stand out. What was the point? She wasn’t clever like Hermione Granger, who everyone admired for her intellect. She wasn’t as daring as the Gryffindors, or as cunning as the Slytherins. She wasn’t even as quirky as Luna Lovegood, who, though often teased, was at least memorable. Y/n was just… there.

She spent most of her time in the library, hidden behind towering shelves of dusty books. She could go entire days without speaking more than a few words. It was easier that way—easier to blend into the shadows, where no one could see how much it hurt to be invisible.

And then there was Potions class.

Y/n wasn’t sure what it was about Potions, but the quiet, methodical nature of the subject suited her. She liked the precision, the way each ingredient had its place and purpose. It was one of the few things she felt competent at, though she would never say she excelled. She followed the instructions, brewed her potions, and handed them in without a fuss. Professor Snape never paid much attention to her, which, in her mind, was a good thing. He was intimidating, with his sharp gaze and cutting words, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his infamous temper.

But then one day, something changed.

It was a particularly dreary Wednesday afternoon, the dungeon classroom colder than usual. Y/n had taken her usual seat at the back, her cauldron bubbling quietly in front of her. Today, they were brewing a particularly tricky potion, and though she had followed the instructions carefully, something wasn’t right. The mixture in her cauldron was a shade too dark, and the scent was off, a sharp tang that shouldn’t have been there.

She frowned, stirring the potion with a sense of growing frustration. It was always like this—she always got close, but never quite right. The other students seemed to manage just fine, their potions shimmering the exact color described in the textbook. But hers… hers was always almost right, always just a bit off. Just like her.

“Miss Y/l/n.”

The sound of her name startled her, the wooden spoon clattering against the side of her cauldron as she looked up. Professor Snape was standing beside her, his dark eyes fixed on her potion with an expression that could have been disgust or disappointment—she wasn’t sure.

“Are you incapable of following simple instructions?” he asked, his voice low and cold, the words like a blade sliding between her ribs.

Y/n felt her face flush with embarrassment, her throat tightening as she stared down at her hands. “I—I thought I was,” she mumbled, hating the way her voice wavered. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she braced herself for a scathing remark. But instead, he waved his wand, and the potion stilled. “The essence of wormwood was added too early,” he said, his tone brisk but not as harsh as she’d expected. “And you’ve allowed the fire to burn too hot.”

Y/n nodded mutely, feeling a fresh wave of disappointment wash over her. Of course, she’d messed it up. She always did.

Snape glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Try again,” he said, his voice quieter this time. “And pay attention to the process, not just the result.”

She blinked, looking up at him in surprise. He didn’t walk away. Instead, he stood there, waiting, as if he actually expected her to succeed. It was strange—no one had ever given her a second chance before. No one ever waited for her.

With trembling hands, Y/n began again, carefully adding each ingredient as Snape watched. She adjusted the flame, measuring the powdered asphodel with a precision that bordered on obsessive. This time, she didn’t rush, didn’t try to simply get through the motions. She focused on each step, feeling the rhythm of the potion as it began to brew properly, the color shifting to the soft, translucent silver it was meant to be.

For the first time, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a long time—pride. Small, tentative, but real. She glanced at Snape, half-expecting him to criticize her again, but instead, he gave a curt nod.

“Better,” he said, his voice cool but not unkind. “You have the capability. You simply lack the confidence.”

Y/n blinked in surprise. “Confidence?” she echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice.

Snape raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. “You doubt yourself at every turn, Miss Y/l/n. That is why you fail.”

His words stung, but not in the way she had expected. It wasn’t the sharp, cutting sting of insult, but the uncomfortable prickle of truth. She did doubt herself. Constantly. Every time she brewed a potion, every time she sat in class, every time she walked through the halls of Hogwarts, she felt like she wasn’t enough. Like she was nothing.

“But I—” She paused, unsure how to explain the weight she carried. “I’m just… not like the others.”

Snape’s expression didn’t soften, but there was something different in his eyes now, something that almost resembled understanding. “The world does not require you to be like everyone else,” he said. “It requires you to be competent. And you are, if only you would believe it.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight. She didn’t know how to believe in herself. She had spent so long fading into the background, so long being unseen, that she didn’t know how to be anything else.

Snape must have sensed her hesitation because his tone shifted slightly, becoming less cold. “You are not as invisible as you believe, Miss Y/l/n. Some of us see more than we let on.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she had heard him right. Not as invisible? It was impossible. How could someone like him—someone so brilliant and intimidating—even notice someone like her?

But there was no hint of sarcasm or cruelty in his voice. He wasn’t mocking her. He wasn’t trying to tear her down. He was simply stating a fact.

For the first time in a long time, Y/n felt a flicker of warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t enough to chase away the darkness that lingered in her heart, but it was something. It was a start.

Over the next few weeks, Y/n found herself paying more attention in Potions. She stayed behind after class sometimes, quietly cleaning her station while Snape graded papers or arranged ingredients for the next lesson. He never said much, but every now and then, he would glance her way and offer a terse comment, correcting her technique or advising her on how to improve.

It was strange, this new dynamic between them. Snape wasn’t exactly kind, but he wasn’t cruel either. He didn’t treat her like she was worthless, like she was just another faceless student. He noticed her. He saw her. And that alone was enough to keep her coming back, to keep her trying.

One afternoon, as she lingered in the dungeon long after the other students had left, Snape spoke again.

“You’ve improved,” he remarked, not looking up from the parchment he was grading.

Y/n, who had been tidying up her cauldron, froze. “I have?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Do not sound so surprised, Miss Y/l/n. You are capable, as I’ve said before.”

She hesitated, her heart beating a little faster. “Why do you… care?”

It was a bold question, one she immediately regretted asking. But Snape didn’t seem offended. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, regarding her with those dark, penetrating eyes.

“I care,” he said slowly, “because I have no interest in seeing wasted potential.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful. Y/n swallowed, nodding slightly as she absorbed what he had said. For the first time in her life, someone had seen something in her. Something more than mediocrity.

As she left the dungeon that day, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. The shadows that had once consumed her felt a little less suffocating. She wasn’t there yet—wasn’t whole, wasn’t healed—but maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t so invisible after all.

---

Y/n’s days continued in much the same way after that, but something had shifted. She still sat in the back of her classes, still kept her head down in the halls, and still spent hours in the library with her nose buried in books. But there was a new sense of awareness that came with it all—a realization that, perhaps, she wasn’t as invisible as she had always believed.

In Potions class, that subtle connection with Snape continued. He never praised her directly, never showered her with compliments or made grand gestures of approval. But there were small moments—glances exchanged over bubbling cauldrons, a word of advice spoken in his curt, indifferent manner—that told her she was being watched, acknowledged, and, in his own way, encouraged.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough. Enough to make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as insignificant as she had always thought.

It was a rainy afternoon when everything came crashing down.

Y/n had been keeping her head above water for weeks now, but the constant weight of her isolation, the crushing sense of being unwanted and unnoticed, never fully went away. The little spark of hope that Snape had ignited in her didn’t banish the sadness that clung to her like a second skin. It didn’t erase the countless nights spent lying awake, wondering what was wrong with her, or the gnawing feeling in her chest that whispered she wasn’t enough.

That day, it all became too much.

The lesson had been going well—she had even managed to brew her potion correctly on the first try—but a small mishap had occurred near the end. Another student had bumped into her table, causing her cauldron to tip slightly, spilling part of her completed potion onto the floor. It was an accident, but it felt like an omen. One small mistake, one tiny moment of chaos, and everything fell apart.

“Careless,” Snape had muttered under his breath as he passed her table, not bothering to stop and inspect the damage. The word was a knife to her chest, sharper than it should have been. He hadn’t even looked at her.

Careless. It echoed in her mind long after class had ended, long after she had cleaned up the mess and left the dungeon. That one word, spoken so casually, was enough to undo the fragile sense of self-worth she had been building.

By the time she reached the solitude of the empty corridor, the tears were already falling. She hadn’t cried in weeks, not since she had first felt that spark of hope, but now it was back—the overwhelming sadness, the feeling of being so small, so insignificant, it felt like she was fading away entirely.

Y/n slipped into an abandoned classroom, the door creaking shut behind her as she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. The tears came harder now, spilling down her cheeks in quiet, desperate sobs. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t keep pretending that things were getting better, that she wasn’t still drowning in her own loneliness. What was the point? No one cared. No one even noticed.

She had no idea how long she sat there, her face buried in her arms, letting the tears come in waves. It wasn’t until she heard the door creak open again that she realized she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Miss Y/l/n.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she quickly wiped her eyes, scrambling to stand up. She recognized the voice immediately, that low, authoritative tone she had come to know so well. Snape.

She turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat as she saw him standing in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowed in his usual expression of mild disapproval. He didn’t speak for a moment, just looked at her, his gaze sharp and piercing as though he could see right through her.

“I— I’m sorry,” Y/n stammered, her voice thick with the remnants of tears. “I didn’t mean to— I was just—”

Snape raised a hand, cutting her off. “There is no need to explain yourself,” he said, his tone devoid of any softness. “I am not here to reprimand you.”

She blinked, confusion washing over her. “Then… why are you here?”

For a moment, Snape said nothing, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite read. Finally, he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. His presence filled the small space, and Y/n felt her heart race in her chest. He wasn’t angry, but there was something heavy about the way he looked at her, something that made her feel vulnerable and exposed.

“I noticed you left in a rather… distressed state,” he said slowly, his voice careful. “And I find myself compelled to ask if you are… well.”

It was such a strange question, coming from him. Snape, who was always so cold, so distant, was standing in front of her, asking if she was well. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

Y/n shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I highly doubt that.”

The bluntness of his words caught her off guard, and she felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. She tried to hold them back, tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was no use. The dam broke, and the tears came again, harder this time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I just… I can’t…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. The weight of it all—the loneliness, the self-doubt, the crushing feeling of being unwanted—it was too much. She didn’t know how to explain it, didn’t know how to put into words the way it felt to live in her own skin.

For a long moment, Snape said nothing. Then, to her utter shock, he stepped closer, his voice low and steady.

“Miss Y/l/n,” he said quietly, “you are not as invisible as you believe.”

Y/n’s breath hitched in her throat, and she looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “I feel like I am,” she whispered. “I feel like no one sees me.”

Snape’s expression softened, just the tiniest fraction. “That is where you are mistaken.”

He didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer her any grand reassurances or platitudes. But there was something in his voice, something in the way he looked at her, that made her believe him. Even just for a moment, she believed him.

Y/n wiped her eyes again, sniffling as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. “I don’t know how to… not feel like this,” she admitted, her voice small.

Snape watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

“It is not about being noticed by others,” he said quietly. “It is about recognizing your own worth. You are capable, Miss Y/l/n. Far more capable than you give yourself credit for. And it is time you begin to see that.”

The words struck her like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the fog that had clouded her mind for so long. It wasn’t a grand declaration, wasn’t a promise that everything would be okay. But it was something—a lifeline, a thread of hope in the darkness.

Y/n nodded slowly, her heart still heavy but just a little lighter than before. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Snape gave her a curt nod, turning toward the door. But before he left, he glanced back at her, his dark eyes holding hers for just a moment longer.

“Do not give up on yourself,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the quiet room. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n didn’t feel completely alone.

Because maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as invisible as she had always thought.

[satoruhour]

Thoughts on poly with satosugu

a/n: long post LOL enjoy

howd you manage to get two of the most caring yet annoying boyfriends ever??? they feed off each others energy sm it’s insane lol good luck. but not in a bad way of course. it def started out when one man of the two was frustrated with the stagnancy and the mixed signals between the three of you that gojo decided to confess and the both of you dated for a while.

geto didnt rlly wanna intrude and felt bad even tho you three were still eye fucking basically every time u were in a room together. gojo was the first to ask you about it “no because ive thought of it too” and gojo’s face lights up bc teecchnically hes been texting geto always how its been a dream to date you even tho it rubs in the wound a little. but it’s ok!!!! im sorry suguru!!! all three of you are together now !!!! 

to start off they are very physical and clingy. always need to have some part of their body on you. gojo prefers the arm slinging over your shoulders, geto prefers a more subtle arm around the waist. ppl r always starin when you three go out 😭 but it’s so cute lowkey! gojo is usually the upbeat one, suggesting dates and places to go and things to do, creating the gc between the three of you (if u didnt alr have one), keeping the relationship fresh with a lot of questions. geto contributes more to the practicality of the rs?? not to say he doesnt talk or is passive in the poly rs but he’s more of a getting groceries, lounging in the back watching the two of you talk excitedly bout digimon, and likes the household chores kind of guy.

it feels like if i say this it’s too cheesy but gojo feels like a sunrise: the dawn of a new day and the adventures that it may bring while geto is like sunsets: the dusk of winding down after the exciting day and youre always craving both. gojo and geto complete each other in countless other ways too and the dynamic you three have is super adorable.

ill highlight a few scenarios bc theres too much potential and power w/ poly stsg!! watching movies: geto us usually okay with anything u two pick out and gojo picks out some psychological horror for funsies but hes screaming into geto’s arms at every jumpscare 😭 the popcorn goes everywhere good lord. you and geto laugh (in the case youre not too afraid of horror) laugh at gojo and pepper him in kisses even when he puts the blame on you for choosing this movie. “too scared that youre placing the blame on our poor (y/n)?” gojo tsks and swats away geto’s hand but is soon distracted by you pulling u into your embrace lol <3 the usual movie positions are like this: either the both of you latch onto geto’s sides, or youre tucked into geto and gojo sits on the floor, your head in either man’s laps and your feet on the other, you squashed in the middle of them both, gojo tucked in your hug while you are tucked in geto’s <333

going grocery shopping: it’s stocking up time and geto cant possibly handle bringing back all the groceries by himself so he brings you along and also (reluctantly) brings gojo. main reason is bc gojo likes to put a lot of things in the cart and begs with his pretty eyes of his that geto always gives in 😭 youre like semi-focused on the task. you put together the grocery list but then youre getting distracted when you see the fruits section and point at it excitedly to geto. gojo is somewhere in the store. sometimes you lead the expedition, pushing the trolley as geto and gojo walk together a few steps behind hand in hand. it changes a whole lot.

sometimes geto will head off to get something and youre left to push the trolley, with gojo by your side kissing your temples walking by your side. they will both sometimes play pranks on you and go off without telling u and run around the store hoping you wont find them LMAO, or even be so so embarrassing dancing in the middle of the aisles or putting their face up to the cameras that broadcast the footage on big tvs ….. also once you guys lost gojo and you had to make an announcement at the counter to call for a six foot man to meet you two at the cashiers….

it’s easy to feel insecure sometimes, or rather not getting enough love / feeling left out bc sometimes they both click so well together you cant understand their inside jokes or they act like boys again, hitting and laughing to each other about shoko fumbling utahime again or something. they apologise profusely, feeling guilty that they even made u feel like that, esp gojo since he has a tendency to initiate a lot of those jokes which you dont understand, or talk about man things lol. youre the sole focus of their eyes always and they show it even more today by pampering you, having a sleepover ish date night, you paint each other’s nails and do some skin care, gossip a little. geto and gojo compliments you a lot, even more so during this bout of insecurity. they fight over who gives better compliments 😭😭😭😭

but either way you bring both of them in to kiss them as a thank you. it’s so difficult to choose between the both of them for cuddling too bc theyre so warm always. you curl into geto first bc on this night you guys picked your fav movie (which also happened to be gojo’s fav) but you were feeling tired asf so the former let you rest up on him while hte latter had his eyes glued. and later when geto needs to clean up he passes you to gojo gently and you adjust yourself against his lanky body <3333 “she’s just so cute, ain’t she?” geto smiles, brushes your hair out ur face, placing a peck on your forehead and another on gojo’s lips. “rest up first, both of you. i’ll come in soon.”

overall best boyfriends ever; let me highlight some more scenarios which i think would happen: coddling over you when you get your period. geto holding your tummy and massaging it while gojo feeds u snacks. fighting over the blanket between the three of you. gojo runs cold at night, geto runs a little cold too so youre usually the mediator between the two of them. “just buy a bigger blanket!!!” and gojos up and ready to head out at 3am. “go to sleep satoru the stores not open rn.” “theft exists.” “no!” sometimes youd go on individual dates when the other cant make it, esp when you three have busy schedules. either two will ALWAYS promise to shower the third in affection once they return home from the date! sometimes when you three need to visit weddings, you’d be squashed in the middle dancing with them, two towers and the shorter one in between that it looks a little comical.

fighting about whose music is the best in the car and fighting over the au, fighting abt who gets to drive. gojo tries to squeeze into the stick shift bc sometimes he misses you two in the back seat :(((( they let you sit down on public transport if the car isnt possible. scary dog privileges, two of them. gojo sneers at anyone who wants ur number and tells them off, geto glares quietly, gojo thinks its bc of him but actually it’s all geto’s doing LMAOAOAO. loving the kisses they both give you: gojo a little more excitable and geto’s sensual and slower, will also fight over who you should straddle when your making out but u give them both equal attention. one will take over the other whos preoccupied with your lips. geto littering kisses down your neck while youre busy with gojo’s lips and vice versa 💟💟💟

sigh id love to be in a poly rs with them and id love to write n*sfw but my hands hurt toodles (i do have a stsg ask that is smutty tho ... will write that soon muahahha)

hello hello!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The drive into town, or the few shops that cluster together at the midpoint of the backroads, is quiet. As you lazily steer around the long bends. As you come in sight of the beer store banner, you squint into the rear view. Bucky’s been so silent, you’re half certain he’s asleep. 

He sits with his arms crossed as he stares out the window. His eyes could be closed. As you roll into the gravel lot, he clears his throat. 

“Not much to this place,” he comments. 

You give a start and shift into park, “nope.” 

He nods as he unbuckles his seat belt and sits up, “quiet.” 

“Very,” you agree. 

He makes no other comment as he gets out. You really can’t tell how he meant it. Does he like the quiet? Hate it? Does he long for the New York rush? 

You push yourself out of the car and head for the front door. He steps ahead to get the door and you thank him. It’s not too unusual. A lot of the men in their plaid fleeces insist on doing the same. You enter and greet Dustin behind the counter. 

“Foster sending you ‘round again?” He asks. 

“Mr. Foster’s drying out. At least his wife says so. And I told her I wouldn’t bring him anymore gin.” You explain.  

“Ah, you got company,” Dustin comes to the end of the counter, “Dustin, and you?” 

He holds out his hand. Bucky shakes it with his gloved one and introduces himself. 

“Ha, boy, fingers’ cold already? Must not be from around here.” 

Bucky sniffs and drops his hand. He has both covered. It’s probably best he not draw attention. 

“Yeah, came up from the States,” he says. “Not a fan of the Canadian beer though.” 

“Ah, you like piss water. Well, head to the back, you’ll find that yankie river water.” 

You chuckle and shake your head. You go down the middle aisle and Bucky catches up to you with a grumble. You notice his glower as he peruses the cases. 

“Don’t take it to hear. That’s just Dusty. If you’re a hockey fan, don’t mention it unless you wanna hear about the Leafs for an hour.” 

“Right,” he nods and grabs a green case. “More of a baseball fan.” 

“Don’t mention that either. He’s a Jays fan.” You head down the far aisle and peruse the smaller bottles. That should be enough. 

“Thought you don’t drink,” he comments as you pick out the brown bottle. 

“Rumcake. I’m gonna check in on the neighbours later this week. Make sure they’re okay. Plus, you add a bit to some fried bananas. It’s great.” You explain. 

He drones again and clicks his tongue. He probably doesn’t care much about the neighbours or your mother’s rumcake recipe. You go to the counter and put the bottle down. As you reach into your pocket, Bucky leans the case on the edge. 

“Charge hers with mine,” he takes out his wallet and slips out some bills. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Least I can do,” he insists and hands over the money, “Sir, you keep the change.” 

“Boy, this is a beer store, we don’t take tips,” Dustin scoffs. 

“Then put it in that charity box,” Bucky shrugs and hauls up the case. “Got somewhere else to go?” 

You take the bottle and say goodbye to Dustin before you follow. 

“Groceries,” you say as you follow him out. 

You fish around for your keys. What pocket did you put them in? You stop beside the driver’s side and search for them. Of course, you locked the car. 

Frustrated, you set the bottle on the car roof. You look down as you continue to pat your jacket. You finally find them and then you hear it. The subtle friction of the bottle slips down the curve of the roof.  

You panic and try to catch it. As you do, you press against the wall that appears behind you. Bucky reaches over your shoulder as he saves the bottle. You get your keys free and teeter between him and the car. He backs up. 

“Got it,” he says. 

“Uh, thanks,” you hid your discomfort. You weren’t expecting him to be so close. 

He easily carries the case under one arm and takes the rum with him around the passengers side. You unlock the doors and he opens the back to put the alcohol in front of the seat. You swing into the driver’s and get yourself situated. 

You’re overthinking. He probably didn’t even realise how awkward that was. You put your keys in the ignition as he drops in through the opposite door. 

“Real friendly around here,” he remarks as check the rear view. 

You reach over to grip the passenger seat as you crane to see behind you. By accident, you grab his shoulder. He grunts and you release him quickly, grabbing the seat instead. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s fine,” he shrugs and you slowly reverse, hooking around to put your car straight.  

You rescind your hand and turn forward, steering out of the lot and down to the next street. There, the grocery store is a bit more lively with the early risers. You draw up and park again. You get out and he follows suit.  

He grabs a cart before you can. You’re not sure if he’s being overly helpful or what. You walk beside him toward the front doors. As you do, Cathy comes out with a paper bag in her arms. Before you can hide, she shrilly calls your name. Great. 

“Oh, haven’t seen you lately,” she smiles beneath her fuschia lipstick. “Oh my,” her heavily lined eyes flick to Bucky, “and who is this? Don’t see a lot of new faces in Caribou.” 

You glance over at your escort as he stops the cart. 

“This is Bucky. He’s visiting Canada.” You say. 

“Visiting? Oh, how wonderful,” she walks up the side of the cart, squinting at him. She never wears her glasses. “Ah, look at him. Strapping.” She grabs his square jaw. 

“Um, Bucky, this is Cathy.” 

“Look at those eyes,” she squeezes him so her acrylics sink into his cheeks. He looks stunned by her latch on him. She is one of a kind, especially around there. 

“Uh, nice to meet you,” he speaks stiffly as she stands on her toes to inspect him. 

“About time you found yourself a handsome young man,” she lets go and he brings his hand to his cheek. 

“Cath, it’s not like that,” you chuckle. “It’s nice seeing you but we gotta grab some stuff.” 

“Oh, don’t let me stop you. Oh, the pharmacy got some of those new ones. You know... the ones with the ribbing,” she winks. 

You take a moment to catch her meaning. Your lips part but you don’t have much of a response. Bucky shifts beside you. 

“Gotta be safe,” she smirks, “anywho, if I was you, I’d be in a hurry too.” 

You set your chin and grab the side of the cart. You pull it along and Bucky goes with it. The silence is stifling. 

“She was nice,” Bucky says as you enter the store. 

“She’s... Cathy. Don’t mind her,” you say as you stop at the shelf of pears. 

“Been a while since anyone called me young,” he snorts as he lingers with the cart. 

“Well, around here, you might just meet a few of your peers. Or close to,” you mutter, paying overly much attention to the pear. You’re too embarrassed to look anywhere else. As usual, Cathy has to make her little comments. “You mind grabbing some maple syrup? I uh... I’m almost out?” 

He doesn’t respond right away. He wheels the cart up in front of you and backs up, “think I can manage that.” 

As he turns, you almost feel bad. You don’t want to treat him like an errand boy. You just need some space. You’re still getting used to someone else being around. All the time. 

[funnier-as-a-system]

Hi this might be a weird question but. How do you know if there are Other People in Your Head? Cuz. My partner who is in a system has been walking me thru symptoms of DID bc. They think I might have DID or smth similar bc of some Symptoms I've Exhibited. But I've never noticed anyone else in my head. (Tho. I am a Notably Different Person rn but I still have memories?? Like I'm missing some but I remember things! I'm just. Suddenly a Different Guy)

(Sorry this is probably stupid u don't have to answer this)

It's not a stupid question at all, anon. Figuring out such things can be difficult even under the best of circumstances, so I'm happy to help.

First things first, having DID doesn't always present as "Other People in Your Head". Sometimes, it can be closer to what you describe, where you're just Suddenly a Different Guy on occasion. Depending on where you live, this experience might fall under OSDD-1 and not DID, but for simplicity's sake, let's just call it DID.

DID is different from person to person. Some folks have very separate and distinct people in their head. Other folks feel more like one entity who becomes different people over time, or as one person who has several facets to them, each with their own unique identity. Still others are somewhere in-between. This middle option(s) sounds a lot like what you describe; within the plural community, you'd probably find the most similarities with median systems, who experience less separation between selves and often describe switches* as more like "becoming someone else" rather than "someone else takes over". They may not actively perceive other selves as Other People in Their Head, but still showcase multiple identities (which correspond with different selves) at different points in time, and may or may not experience memory issues.

* a "switch" is what it's called when whoever is in control of the body changes

Speaking of, memory issues can vary in DID, too. Sometimes you may not remember anything that happened while a different person/guy/self was in control, other times you may remember bits and pieces, still other times you may remember everything but feel disconnected from it, and sometimes you may even have no problems recalling memories at all. Median systems often report fewer or less severe memory issues, although this is not an inherent rule of being median.

There's also the possibility that perceiving the (potential) Other People in Your Head is just a skill you haven't unlocked yet, and right now you're only able to notice when your current identity is different in some way to how it was previously. That's common among those who have DID. In that case, working on communication can help. But it's also okay if you're never able to perceive anyone else in your head. Whether you are or are not a system is not dependent on mastering every trick in the book – especially as you'd be hard-pressed to find a system who finds all of them useful!

I'd recommend looking into median systems and seeing if any of that is relatable to you. You may also wish to look into OSDD-1, but again, depending on where you live, this may not be a separate diagnosis from DID, and not all those with OSDD-1 are or are like median systems. There's no foolproof way to determine if you're a system, but I'd say that's your best bet if you want to find systems who can understand and relate to what you're experiencing.

I hope this helps, and I wish you and your partner luck in figuring things out, anon!

[hemmingshouse]

the two of us / colby brock

summary: in which colby finally realises he wants to be the only man in your life after only being your friend for way too long.

warnings: swearing, sarcastic!colby, jealous!colby, alcohol, mentions of sex, semi choking?, clubbing, being drunk, ass grabbing, kissing / making out

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“if your heel snaps off once again i’m blaming it on your clumsiness instead of the alcohol this time.”

sam’s words made your head turn into his direction, eyes narrowing at the grinning boy as he exited the taxi right after you. you pretended to think of an answer, ticking your head to the side before sighing softly and sticking up your middle finger to flip him off as a small chuckle left your mouth.

as much as you hated to admit it, saturday nights combined with shots of strong liquor and going out in heels was never something you were good at. but since it was tara’s birthday you couldn’t stay behind, the raven haired girl claiming you had to look your best because she invited some of her old friends from college. ‘there might be one or two that would love to meet you’ was what she said when you asked you friend as to why she was so keen of you going out with her in the first place.

so here you were, making your way into the club after sighing softly and stacking your id back into your small shoulder purse. a staircase that was supposedly leading you to the actual club and bar made you groan a little, convincing you once more that the knee high heeled boots on your feet were not a good idea.

a large hand softly rested in the small of your back and you didn’t even have to check who was right next to you leading you up the staircase - his intoxicating cologne was enough for you to know colby was there to rescue you once again.

sending him a warm smile as the heat of his hand radiated through the thin material of your silky dress made your insides turn and turn your cheeks a slight shade of rosy blush. thank fuck it was dark in this club.

it had always been like this, ever since you got to know colby through your mutual friends tara and sam. the flirtatious comments, the small touches and the genuine warm smiles as you gazed into his eyes for a tad too long - you and colby had always felt at ease with one another.

one game of truth or drink once lead to him having you pinned against his bedroom door after on a livestream you answered who you wouldn’t mind kissing the shit out of. your honesty had lead you to believe that colby might’ve been feeling the same way after his mouth found yours and you made out for what felt like an eternity before sam was trying to find you for a game of beer pong and you and colby had never spoken about (or repeated) your actions after that.

it was times like these where your head was playing tricks on your heart and made you think that he still had a small amount of feelings for you somewhere within. that was up until he had a few drinks and shots and found a new girl to spend his time with.

“c’mon babes!” tara took your hand after colby had disappeared to get your group a few drinks, “luke is here and he wants to see you!”

tara, oh tara. she was a little devil in disguise sometimes. she was always trying to set you up with one of her friends and had even tried to make you and sam date before she was even aware sam felt like a non biological brother to you. it was nothing new and you always found it hilarious and adorable to see how happy tara was when she introduced you to your new potential flame.

especially after she found out colby let you down every time he brought a girl home. sure, he wasn’t aware of your slight feelings towards him but that didn’t mean it hurt less to see him surrounded by absolute babes.

“t,” you chuckled, “we have loads of ti-” you were cut off by tara tugging your hand a bit harder which you knew was a sign you needed to stop talking.

luke was gorgeous. the way his hair was messy, but still styled to a t. his white t-shirt clung to his torso in all the right places. warm and welcoming eyes looking down at you and a toothy grin curving his lips upward as he found out you were the one tara was yapping on about.

“oh,” you breathed, “hi. oh god.”

he chuckled at your words, extending his hand for you to shake so he was able to introduce himself. “hi y/n, i’ve heard a lot about you. i’m luke.”

his voice sent a good tingle down your spine, hand feeling warm against your palm as you shook his hand. “is this the part where i say i hope you only heard good things?”

luke shrugged his shoulders with a playful grin, “unless you wanna tell me about the bad things.”

in the meantime colby had made sure to get you your favourite mixed drink, his eyes trying to find yours as he looked around his group of friends.

tara took notice of this and she cleared her throat to get his attention. “y/n’s got a drink already, actually.” she pointed towards the corner of the club, where luke had just handed you your favourite drink.

tara absolutely knew what she was doing. she knew colby longer than you did and when she brought you into his life, tara was fully aware of the effect you had on him. colby obviously wouldn’t be colby if he wasn’t his flirtatious self, but the way he cared and looked out for you was something tara rarely saw when it came to colby and a girl.

colby followed her finger, blue eyes landing on you and the taller guy you were talking to. he licked his dry lips in the hope to cover how his mouth went extremely dry when he saw luke brush a piece of your hair behind your ear. “are you trying to set her up again?”

tara turned her head to meet colby’s eyes, an unreadable expression behind them. she asked him a question, already knowing the answer to it. “why? would that bother you?”

colby intently watched the pair in the corner of the club as he took a sip of his alcohol, trying to restain himself from downing the entire drink at once. he hated the way he felt when he saw you with other guys, and he didn’t know why.

fuck that, he knew exactly why.

colby always had a protective feeling over you ever since you two met multiple years back. he wrapped an arm around your shoulders when you were investigating with him and sam and something shook you to the core. he wiped off all your make-up after a night out because you were too drunk to do so and he hated how you felt waking up with that stuff on your face. he picked you up when a thunder storm was approaching and let you sleep in his bed, cuddled up to him because you couldn’t stand the loud cracks of thunder and lightning whirling around the silent house.

and somewhere along the way, when you started feeling secure and comfortable around him, he had caught some feelings for you as well. he didn’t wanted to own up to them because he knew how much your friendship meant to you (and him) and he was fucking terrified to lose you if he confessed how he was massively in love with you ever since he laid eyes on you when tara brought you along for the first time.

colby sighed deeply before he turned to meet tara’s gaze, narrowing his eyes at the dark haired girl. “you know what you’re doing,” he spoke up.

tara ticked her head to the side after she clinged her glass together with colby’s in a cheers. a grin danced on her face as she watched you and luke, “is it working?”

another sigh escaped colby’s lips before he downed the rest of the strong liquor in his glass, smashing it down onto the table the rest of the group sat around at. “it fucking is.”

tara’s mouth fell agape as colby confessed, not expecting the reaction he had just given her. she watched him make his way through the crowd of dancing bodies, nearing you and luke within a few seconds.

sam had stood up from where he was talking to jake, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “is colby finally doing something about his fucking feelings?”

tara nodded proudly, holding out her fist so sam could join her in a fistbump. “fucking finally.”

you chuckled at luke, nodding your head at something he had said. he was absolutely gorgeous but the way he behaved himself after only knowing you for around fifteen minutes made the hairs om your neck stand up straight. he was definitely not your type in any way, shape or form.

when you saw someone approach you two from the corner of your eye, you felt a relieved feeling take over your body. “oh my god,” you mumbled, genuinely happy as you looked into a pair of blue eyes. “hey colbs.”

colby’s body relaxed a bit when he noticed the uninterested look in your eyes after you looked from luke to him. he had made his way over to grab you by the arm and drag you through the crowd to make sure you knew the guy was an asshole, but when he noticed the distance between you and luke he knew enough. you were so not into this kid.

and so he decided he was in the mood to try something to make you tag along with him instead.

“hey babe,” he spoke up, biting the inside of his cheek to refrain himself from smirking too big, “i got you your drink, sorry it took so long.”

his eyes darted towards luke, who sat at the booth with a confused look painted across his face. he was too stunned to say anything as colby took your hand and pulled you from where you were seated onto the silk fabric of the couch.

you had no fucking clue what he was trying to do, but the amused look and smirk on colby’s face made you curious and genuinely excited for wherever the hell his plans were headed.

“oh that’s okay,” you chuckled slightly, smoothing out your short dress with your free hand before looking at him. “thank you, babe.”

the nickname fell from your lips before either of you could comprehend what you just said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. luke cleared his throat, standing up awkwardly from where he was sitting before. “shit bro, i thought she was single. apologies.”

colby inhaled a sharp breath as one of his hands rested itself on your waist, the silk of your dress feeling soft against his fingertips. he kept looking into your eyes to make sure whatever he was doing was fine by you, even when his hand dipped down to your ass and he gave it a slight squeeze. “she has always been mine.”

your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, it must’ve been at a thousand beats per minute with the way colby was looking at you and keeping you close to his body.

drowning out everything that was going around you, you shook your head slightly as a chuckle fell from your lips. “is this tara’s work?” you asked him as your arms finally snaked around his neck, your body relaxing into his touch.

colby rolled his eyes playfully, one hand now reaching up to brush a sparkle of your eyeshadow off your cheek. “she got me good,” he admitted, softly pulling your body so your chest was flush against his. “although i was planning on doing this for quite a while actually.”

“is that so?” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear as your lips brushed the shell of his ear.

colby released a breathy sigh, “oh my god,” he laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief, “you’re something else.”

“are you gonna kiss me or do we need to play a truth or drink game once again before you make a move?”

your words were all it took for colby to softly dig his fingers deeper into your waist, other hand prettily resting around your throat. his thumb lightly pressed down onto the side of your skin, a breathy gasp leaving your mouth. “careful what you wish for baby, i can’t stop once i start.”

your mouth ran dry at his words, eyes looking into his. your hand wrapped itself around colby’s wrist, blinking your eyes slowly, “i’m not a quitter either.”

that was all it took for colby to squeeze your throat slightly and bring your face closer to his to nudge his nose against yours, “that makes the two of us then.”

his soft lips couldn’t wait to kiss yours, the taste of tequila mixed with beer making your head even more fuzzy than it already was as colby’s tongue slipped into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

your hands found themselves slipping underneath his shirt, right below the waistband of his jeans as you tried to give him some of his own medicine. your soft hands against his skin, so close to where he needed you the most made a soft groan fall from his lips.

“i hope you’re ready to make up for lost time as soon as we get back to my house.”

part 2 (x)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hiiii everyone! i decided to start writing again after what seemed like forever. send me a request if you want! will also write for sam if anyone’s interested :) also, part 2? ;)

[jesswritesthat]

Miya Atsumu: VBC

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: -1.8k, fluff

• Joining the Inarizaki volleyball team isn’t what you expected, but maybe someone can help with that.

Warnings: fem!reader, curses

>>>>——————————>

In honesty you were ecstatic to transfer to Inarizaki High for second year, it gave you the opportunity to reconnect with your best friend Yuki, and you'd heard amazing things about the volleyball club there.

The key word being 'were'. It wasn't until you'd arrived did you understand the misconception - you had every intention of joining the females VBC despite your friends' discernment. Upon passing the advertising for afterschool clubs, you noted their sales pitch wasn't exactly suited to one's passion for the sport.

"The main reason to join is for the Miya twins!"

It was rather a passion for the boys.

"But this is the girls team." You'd deadpan stated, as if this resolved everything.

Alas the promoter and captain disagreed with a gleaming smile that suggested she'd been begging to elaborate on such things.

"Yes exactly! Atsumu and Osamu are interested in volleyball, meaning the boys team are liable to play us during training. Giving us a chance to spend time and learn from them~"

"Great, I'm all for the competition but—"

"If you're lucky you might even end up with a hot boyfriend!"

Instantly the leaflet in your palm was scrunched, a huff of disappointment escaping you.

"Then I'd rather find somewhere else to play." You curtly responded, the girl taken aback but cheerfully calling after you anyway.

"We— We're showing around potential recruits after school if you change your mind!"

Once reaching your newly assigned classroom, the balled up paper was dumped on your friends' desk who only looked up to you with a raised brow.

"That's why you were evasive about me joining the volleyball club Yuki."

She released a tired hum, like she'd been expecting this conversation, Hamada Yuki and yourself had been on a team together in middle school.

"Told ya (Y/n), as a member of the so-called 'Inarizaki Girls Volleyball Team', it's more of a damn fan club at this point." Yuki seethed, shooting the flyer into the bin across the classroom.

"I could tell. Is anyone serious there besides you?" You questioned once sitting at your desk beside hers, the setter shaking her head thoughtfully.

"A few. We're vastly outnumbered by fangirls though, we practice and they do whatever - sometimes asking us about terminology to impress certain people of course."

On that note, you figured it'd be worth seeing what the fuss was about later, and if what Yuki had told you was true.

Lo and behold, it was exactly like Yuki described. However, the second you'd reached the boys practice, the surrounding group of girls came to life with unadulterated adoration for the players. Squeals and cheers erupting when they'd take shots or score, meanwhile you'd analysed the plays with a degree of knowledge.

It was then you'd locked eyes with the charismatic setter, only for a second, before his shift in focus sent your fellow potentials into a frenzy.

That's enough. You walked out.

———

So the girls team wasn't your cup of tea. That didn't mean you'd cease playing the game you enjoyed - the nearby community centre hosted volleyball sessions regularly, and you were able to book time slots with Yuki and some of her teammates.

It meant you were settling into this new environment, even if it wasn’t perfect. As an Inarizaki tradition, and a volleyball fan, you naturally ended up watching a few of the boys games out of support. They were talented too, deserving of their recognition even if part of it was linked to their attractiveness.

“Ya came to the game huh, transfer?” He caught you as you were about to leave the gym in the midst of students fussing over them, an apologetic hand immediately retracting from your wrist where he’d reached for you.

“Yeah, apparently it’s a tradition or something since you guys are the pride of Inarizaki.” You’d spoken casually with a shrug which he seemed somewhat defeated by considering the recent victory.

“Oh really…?”

“Mhm. You played well though, Miya.”

“It’s nothin’, all thanks to training and my team y’know?” It appeared he’d reignited, a sudden enlightenment about him due to your praise.

“Keep it up then. See you around.”

“I— uh— yeah hope so!”

———

Today, you'd ventured to the centre, court doors open to allow a soft breeze to freshen the area. As well as a perspective viewpoint for curious passers-by, one that captured the double back of a certain blonde.

Finally, spike!

"Hey I know ya!"

Faltering, awry angle leaving you landing awkwardly but your hit was seemless. Still, you shot a dangerous glare to the intruders, finding Atsumu holding the door he'd previously slammed wide open and Osamu who also seemed tired of his twins' spontaneity.

"No, you don't Miya."

"Yer from class. The transfer.” Atsumu proudly replied to your dismissal, walking in with a wave alongside his brother who facepalmed with an agitated mutter.

“Their name is (L/n) (Y/n).”

“Well I never asked ‘em!” Even though you’d spoken a few times and it’d been nearly two months, this remained true.

"Okay, and?" Your lack of acknowledgement left Atsumu pouting slightly, but he was more intrigued by your choice of venue considering the fully functioning gym and team currently training at Inarizaki.

"And yer here playing volleyball instead of at school! Yer good, the girls team would be glad to have ya."

"I'd rather play for the community centre." You immediately responded a matter-of-factly, facing him now and spinning the recovered ball between your hands.

"But they don't get to enter high school competitions." It seemed he wasn't entirely convinced, having not discovered the answers he was politely fishing for.

"I know."

"Alright! I just wanna know why yer here? I’d get to play against ya if yer were apart of the school team." Atsumu argued again, more direct this time.

"Because the girls team is a damn fan club for you guys, the only score they're interested is scoring a date with you!"

"Huh, I mean..."

"Why bother joining a team like that when hardly any of them are there to actually play volleyball." You'd rolled your eyes, emotion present when explaining your point and Atsumu seemed to empathise.

"I get it. That'd piss me off too."

"Agreed." Osamu added, an understanding nod toward you.

"Then you have your answer."

With little more to say, the twins shared a sceptical look, before returning their focus to you once more.

“Would ya mind if we joined ya then?”

The question caught you off-guard, darting between them as if searching for some ulterior motive only to find none.

“I guess not.”

“Thanks (L/n).”

“Yeah cheers!” Osamu and Atsumu respectively threw their thanks and removed their jackets ready to play.

———

It’d been a week since that escapade, and you’d found the twins sharing gestures of greeting if they saw you around the school but nothing out of the ordinary. At least not until now…

"Psst (Y/n)!" Yuki came dashing in, evading desks until she'd reached yours with a devious look. "Guess what."

"You actually got an A?"

"Rude." A scoff. "No, Miya Atsumu came to practice yesterday."

"I am so sorry for your loss of concentration, I imagine your fangirl teammates couldn't take their eyes off him." Sarcasm flowed like an effortless river, one that normally fuelled Yuki, except she held a scheming tone when responding straightforwardly.

"He eradicated over half of the club."

"What?" You shock was evident, you’d heard he could be critical in games and a bit of an ass but this was unexpected - Yuki far too happy to extend.

"Yep. Miya comes in and gives a whole speech about ‘if you're not serious about playing then quit’. Said if they’re here for the boys team, he'll ask to open a practice for them to watch - and something about how being apart of this club isn't gonna catch his attention because he already likes someone.”

"Woah." It was all you could muster considering that this whole thing might've been linked to your conversation the other day. He wouldn't do that for such a trivial reason though, right? But if was to protect the sport he loved then it made sense.

"So... wanna join the team and play as my precious Spiker again?" Yuki persuadingly started when clasping your shoulders, earnest gratitude and glee lacing her voice.

"Seriously?"

"Yes! Remaining members want to progress and I want my middle school ace by my side again so we can kick ass and go to Nationals!"

"Then I'm in, but isn't there a trial or—" You matched her contagious energy, until she cut you off holding up an already filed applicant form.

"Just approval from the captain." Yuki smirked, that evil one she wore when she had something over you. "Me."

"You?”

"What? Once the chief of the Miya fan club quit along with the others, the team needed a serious captain.” She struck a model pose. “Who better than the reliable setter right?"

"I agree with the setter stuff, but uh can I talk to (L/n) for a sec?" The pair of you looked to the confident origin, finding none other than Atsumu walking toward you.

Yuki gave a little teasing wave and left you two to talk.

"I think ya should give the girls volleyball club a chance y'know." He’d held a hand to the back of neck, a lopsided grin on his lips regardless of the underlying awkwardness he harboured.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Went there yesterday, no fangirls in sight - just the makings of a solid team. Maybe ya were wrong about it."

"Maybe I was. Captain Yuki did personally invite me, so the least I could do is try it out." You paused momentarily, meeting his auburn eyes with mischievous ones of your own. "Considering all your hard work Miya."

There was a guilty look crossing his expression ever so briefly, the blonde shaking it off with a cocky smile.

"No idea whatcha talking about. Whatever, do what ya want!"

———

The Inarizaki girls VBC was a brilliant one now it'd been fortified, you got to play alongside your best friend once more and were surrounded by a team of talented individuals who you could hang out with as friends too.

Due to improved team cohesion, there were even joint training sessions alongside the boys VBC, sessions which the third years had said were more frequent than they ever had been before.

They couldn't help but think all the beneficial changes recently were all down to a single catalyst. Said catalyst apparently trying to impress a certain someone who'd captured more than his attention. The same one who he’d been too nervous to ask for a name numerous times when sparking conversation. The same one he’d look for during games and throughout the school corridors.

Unfortunately the certain someone was oblivious to such signs and thought nothing of it when Inarizaki walked into the gym - their prodigal setter immediately laying eyes on who everyone knew to be this certain someone.

"Hey (Y/n), can I set for ya?"

<——————————<<<<

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